Crossing Paths Duology
by Androgene
Summary: Before Phantom Menace. Qui-Gon crosses paths with a mysterious and unusual woman. Was formerly under Cyberoid13. Completed a few yrs back.
1. Firegold

Name : Cyberoid13  
Website : www.geocities.com/Area51/Shadowlands/3113  
Email : cyberoid13@yahoo.com  
  
Title : Crossing Paths (Part One) - Firegold  
Summary : Qui-Gon Jinn crosses path with an unusual and mysterious woman while on   
a mission.  
Date of completion : 30th August 1999  
Category : Rise of the Emperor (drama)   
Rating : PG  
  
Author's comments : I was lying in bed one night, mentally constructing my original   
story when this idea occurred to me. It stems from my curiosity to see how my heroine   
would interact with characters from TPM, especially Qui-Gon. In fact this story   
screamed so loudly to be written that I put aside whatever else I was doing and devoted   
my time to it. The result is this and I like it a lot. I hope my readers would like it as well.   
In order to better visualise the action sequence in this story, think 'anime action'.   
This adventure occurred just before those in 'The Phantom Menace'. Basically it's a Qui-  
Gon story. Minor spoilers for TPM.   
  
Disclaimer : All Star Wars characters belonged to George Lucas and Lucasfilm. I don't   
own them and I certainly don't make money from them.  
  
Note : //...// indicates telepathy.  
  
_____________________________________________________________________  
  
CROSSING PATHS ( I ) - FIREGOLD  
  
by  
Cyberoid13  
  
_____________________________________________________________________  
  
~ PROLOGUE ~  
  
When she could finally opened her eyes, she was genuinely surprised to find herself still   
breathing.   
  
Still alive after the harrowing escape from her pursuer and the violent crash on this   
unknown planet.   
  
Lying unmoving, she let her eyes take in the damage surrounding her. Her spacecraft   
was tilting at a very odd angle, deck nearly facing skywards. Her safety harness trapped   
her in the pilot seat, pressing painfully against her ribcage. The console in front of her   
was blackened and damaged beyond repair. And there was not an inch of her body that   
did not ache.   
  
Slowly, she unbuckled her safety harness and carefully climbed out of the pilot chair.   
Crimson-gold hair fell loose from its binding, tumbling over a shoulder and down her   
back. Bracing herself against the high back of the chair, she took in the rest of her ship.   
  
The damage was extensive. The stern was crumpled like so much paper, crushing   
whatever machinery and computer systems in that area. The starboard bulkhead fared   
just as badly - ripped and tore out, letting in the cold rain that was falling outside on the   
planet.   
  
It would no longer fly anymore.  
  
Last, she turned her attention to her injuries. Miraculously, she had escaped with minor   
injuries, save for the deep gash on her forehead. Closing her eyes, she sent her awareness   
inward.  
  
The gash on her head, deep but strangely bloodless, began to close. Slowly at first, but it   
quickened until a scar was all that was left. And even that disappeared in seconds. She   
opened her eyes, leaning heavily against the chair, knees buckling. The regeneration had   
taken longer than usual, testimony to her depleted and exhausted state. She doubted if   
she could do any more self-repair until she had rested and regained her energy.  
  
But she can't rest.  
  
Not when the Headhunter who had shot her out of space could come after her anytime.  
  
Pushing aside the support of the pilot chair, she stumbled towards the emergency   
supplies. Breaking the seal, she dragged out the entire survival kit. The contents within   
was not entirely suitable to someone of her kind but it would do in a pinch. It was not as   
though she owed this spacecraft; she had stolen it from the spaceport. There was no   
time to be picky when her survival was threatened.  
  
Survival kit in hand, she managed to stagger to the jagged hole before her strength finally   
gave out. Knees buckling, she collapsed, nearly slicing herself on a jagged edge of metal.   
The survival kit clattered unnoticed to the wet muddy ground outside. Her head swam   
dizzyingly, black spots swimming in front of her eyes, and she felt so weak.  
  
How long has it been since she has gone without food or feeding off energy sources?   
She couldn't remember.   
  
Feebly, she changed directions, crawling towards the rear of the spacecraft. There was an   
energy source, she could feel its hum, almost buried beneath all the debris. Reaching the   
barrier that was the crushed stern of the spacecraft, she weakly stretched a slim arm into   
a crevice. She didn't have to look to guide her hand towards the energy source. All her   
senses were riveted on the flickering energy source, so hungry she was.   
  
Then she was there, her fingers closing about the metallic surface of the fuel tank. In it,   
she could literally sense the presence of pure energy. With one last burst of strength, she   
broke the metal surface and sank her fingers deep into the energy fuel.   
  
Pure power was absorbed by her skin and coursed through her veins. She shuddered,   
closing her eyes and her head drooped against the cold surface of her spacecraft. For a   
long while, she laid there, relishing the feel of returning energy to her limbs. It was   
barely enough - much of the energy fuel had been used up in her escape from her   
homeworld. Still it would be able to sustain her for at least a week before she had to feed   
again.  
  
Properly, she hoped.   
  
Feeling much better than she had in months, she rose to her feet. Pausing by the self-  
destruct mechanism, she activated it. Without another backward glance, she picked up   
the survival kit and walked into the pouring rain, never flinching when the spacecraft   
exploded minutes later.  
  
There was a town nearby, she remembered from her last scan of this region on this   
unnamed planet. It was a place she could feed and rest before setting out once more.   
She knew she couldn't stay long on this planet. She would have to find a way off this   
world before the Headhunter tracked her down again.   
  
_____________________________________________________________________  
  
~ ONE ~  
  
The Republic cruiser coursed out of hyper-space and slowed to a more stately speed as it   
approached the glowing planet in the distance. Like any planet when seen from space,   
Theomoral looked extremely benign and peaceful.   
  
Qui-Gon Jinn knew better, though. Standing unobtrusively behind the Captain-Pilot of   
the Republic cruiser, the Jedi Master studied the planet thoughtfully.  
  
The Crown Prince of Theomoral had been kidnapped almost a month ago, causing an   
uproar not only on the planet itself but within the Senate as well. Theomoral was a   
prominent and powerful member of the Senate, and its ruler's backing of Supreme   
Chancellor Valorum was the strongest. Thus when the Royal Co-Consorts asked for   
help in locating their missing son a week ago, the Republic wasted no time in agreeing.   
  
Qui-Gon and his Padawan learner Obi-Wan Kenobi were roused from their sleep in the   
middle of the night and given this urgent mission. They left Coruscant within the hour,   
packing light travel bags, without complaints. As Jedi, they were used to having no   
permanent home (even though they have quarters in the Temple) and to go wherever   
they were needed. The number of hours they spent in their quarters was minuscule   
compared to the number of flight hours they logged.   
  
"Who could be so daring?" Qui-Gon muttered aloud. "To kidnap the Crown Prince   
from right under everyone's noses?"  
  
"It would be a hard guess to make, Master." Obi-Wan spoke up beside him.   
  
"Indeed. There are many rival Houses and all eye the throne."   
  
Qui-Gon's eyes grew distant as he turned his awareness to the Force, carefully feeling its   
currents and eddies. Tension coloured the Force, much of it emanating from the   
troubled world they were approaching. Theomoralans loved their Royal House. This   
latest danger facing their rulers were affecting the people as well. Other than that, Qui-  
Gon did not discern any other dangers.   
  
Withdrawing, Qui-Gon pulled the hood of his dark Jedi robe over his head. "Come,   
Obi-Wan, let us get ready for our mission."   
  
"Yes, master." Likewise, Obi-Wan concealed his face and clasped hands in the depths of   
his hooded robe and followed his Master from the cockpit.   
  
With luck, they would be able to resolve this crisis quickly and surely. Yeah, right. And   
the Hutts are friends of the Jedi, Obi-Wan thought wryly. The Jedi never did things the   
easy way, especially his Master.   
  
Still, it made for an interesting life.   
  
***  
  
The capital city of Theomoral consisted of both the best and worst kind of   
entertainment the planet had to offer under one roof, figuratively speaking. While the   
wealthy and aristocratic dined and lived in sumptuous luxury in the upper-class district,   
the poor and the peasant-class made merry in the seedy and garish section of the capital   
city.  
  
In a particularly rough neighbourhood, a boy about eight laid curled in a small ball inside   
a metal cage. He was dressed in dirty clothes of rich material, a sharp contrast to the   
rough-spun blanket covering the floor of the cage. He slept fitfully, one thumb inserted   
in his mouth.  
  
The door to the room swung open, admitting a slim willowy figure carrying a small tray   
of food. Light glinted off a loose lock of red-gold hair peeking out beneath a scarf tied   
about her head before the door swung shut again. The figure padded silently across the   
room, unerringly picking her way through the darkness, towards the cage. Putting the   
tray before the cage, the woman reached into the cage to gently shake the boy into   
consciousness.   
  
Brandelam stirred, opening sleepy eyes. Recognising the pale delicate face of the only   
person who has been kind to him since he was brought to this awful place, he smiled   
brilliantly.   
  
"Firegold!" he cried happily, scrambling to sit upright. The woman quickly put a warning   
finger to his lips. He obediently lowered his voice, though it was no less cheerful. "Boy,   
am I glad to see you!"  
  
The woman simply nodded and slid the small tray of food through a slot into the cage.   
Courteous as always, Brandelam thanked her for the meal and began eating voriferously.   
It had been a long while since lunch. Between mouthfuls of food, he chatted to the   
woman, talking about anything under the sun. And there was a lot of things he could   
talk about. Being the Crown Prince and a prodigy, Brandelam was smart beyond his   
years.   
  
The woman never said a single word, simply sat by his cage, listening attentively to every   
word he said. In the short time Brandelam had known her, he had never heard her speak   
or seen her smile. He didn't know her name, so he called her Firegold because her hair   
was this vibrant vivid shade of crimson-gold, like the flower firegold that grew on the   
palace grounds.   
  
His dinner was gone, but Firegold stayed. She produced a wet washcloth and cleaned   
him as thoroughly as she could, her movements hampered by the bars of the cage.   
Brandelam never stopped talking, even as he sat still for the cleaning. In this hostile   
place, she was the only friend he got.  
  
The door suddenly banged open. Quicker than the eye could follow, Firegold was on her   
feet, whirling to face the intruder. The washcloth disappeared into the folds of her   
rough-spun skirt.   
  
Despite his precocious nature, Brandelam shrank back from the unshaven human   
looming in the doorway. His kidnapper scowled at Firegold, one hand on his blaster.  
  
"You been talking to the kid again?" he growled.  
  
Firegold, as was her wont, didn't say a thing. With a calm that was unusual in a peasant   
girl, she gathered up the small tray and left the room, brushing past Brandelam's guard.  
  
His scowl deepening, the guard slammed shut the door and locked it. In quick strides, he   
caught up with Firegold and roughly yanked her to a stop. The tray and its empty   
receptacles fell to the floor with a loud clatter, ignored by the guard as he pushed her up   
against a wall.  
  
"You do more than just bring food to the brat, and I'll be forced to hurt you real bad."   
He leered at her, one hand groping for her behind. "Do you understand me, sweetie?"  
  
Firegold was motionless, even calm. Her unflinching gaze remained peculiarly remote.  
  
Brandelam's guard shifted uneasily, hating the woman's unusual calmness. He released   
her from his grip. "Go. I don't want to see you loitering around here."  
  
Still eerily silent, Firegold picked up her fallen tray and receptacles and walked away.  
  
_____________________________________________________________________  
  
~ TWO ~  
  
The Crown Prince's bedchamber was large and filled with things one would associate   
with childhood.  
  
Obi-Wan bent and picked up a fallen stuffed toy, rubbing the soft fur before replacing it   
on the shelf. A young man in his early twenties, Obi-Wan could barely remember his   
childhood or his birth parents. Only a worn stuffed toy animal was vivid in his   
memories; it was the only thing he remembered bringing from his birth home. The   
Padawan wondered absently what happened to that stuffed toy animal.   
  
"Rest assured, Your Majesties." Qui-Gon was saying to the Royal Co-Consorts. "We will   
find and bring your son safely back to you."  
  
"Please, Master Jedi." Consort Jerida could barely hold back her tears.  
  
"Our hopes lay with you, Master Jinn." Her husband wrapped a comforting arm about   
her. Consort Branam was fighting rather unsuccessfully to keep his poise serene. "Come,   
Jerida. Let us leave the Jedi to their investigation."  
  
The Jedi bowed as the Royal Co-Consorts left their son's bedroom. Only when they   
were along once more did they turn their attention to the bedroom.   
  
Qui-Gon looked around, hands clasped and hidden in the sleeves of his robe. Though it   
had been a month since the kidnapping, the Jedi Master could still sense the Crown   
Prince's terror permeating the room.  
  
"Amazing," Obi-Wan muttered. "His emotional impressions are still present. To leave   
that long-lasting an impression..."  
  
"The Crown Prince is either an Sender, or has Jedi potential." Qui-Gon finished. He   
paced slowly about the room, opening himself to the Force.   
  
"I wonder how would the Co-Consorts react if the boy turns out to be Jedi potential,"   
Obi-Wan muttered absently as he too lowered his shields to the Force.  
  
//A question for another time, Padawan. Now concentrate on finding the boy.//  
  
//Yes, master.//  
  
They both 'saw' it at the same time - the black stab of terror and danger - tainting the   
broken harp strewed haphazardly on the floor. Qui-Gon knelt and stretched a hand over   
the smashed pieces of the musical instrument, carefully feeling the impression still   
clinging to the battered wood. Exchanging a glance, both Jedi settled down on the   
carpeted floor and centred their focuses on the broken pieces of wood and strings   
scattered on the floor.   
  
It was a cherished piece of musical instrument, a gift from someone dear to the Crown   
Prince, Qui-Gon could sense. But the shades of love were nearly overwhelmed by the   
black taint of terror.   
  
Images began to flow into Qui-Gon's mind, images of a young boy engrossed in   
practising a simple court tune on his harp when a shadow felled across him. Qui-Gon   
sharpened his focus, concentrating on that moment of danger. He willed the images to   
slow in his mind, watching each detail closely as the boy turned away from his harp to   
look up into the face of his would-be kidnapper, recognising the face, before blackness   
descended.  
  
Qui-Gon felt the surge of exaltation, quickly suppressed, in his Padawan. //We got him,   
Master.// Obi-Wan said with deep satisfaction.   
  
//Yes, we do.// Qui-Gon pulled himself out of his light trance and opened his eyes. He   
rose to his feet, pulling the edges of his cloak close. "Come, let us put an end to this."  
  
The Royal Co-Consorts were waiting outside the Crown Prince's bedroom when they   
exited.   
  
"We are close, Your Majesties." Qui-Gon said in reply to their hopeful, questioning   
looks. "I would like to speak to one of your retainers. A man by the name Kilerim."  
  
Branam's face darkened when he realised the implications behind Qui-Gon's request.   
"He will be arrested accordingly, Master Jedi."  
  
Qui-Gon raised a hand, a premonition gripping him suddenly. "No, Your Majesty. I   
would prefer not to raise his guard. I sense there is more to this kidnapping than just a   
simple ransom demand."   
  
"All right," Branam acquiesced reluctantly. He beckoned to a guard looming   
unobtrusively in the background. "This is Saberim, my loyal retainer. He will help you in   
your investigation. Find them, Master Jedi. Find my son and bring him home to us."  
  
***  
  
Firegold wove her way through the late afternoon crowd in the seedy taproom of the   
tavern, deftly avoiding the various lecherous hands reaching out to grope her person.   
Unlike the other barmaids in the taproom coyly flirting with the patrons, she did no   
such things. She never smiled, never say a word, simply doing her job as a barmaid. The   
patrons knew well enough to leave her alone. The last time someone made unwanted   
advance towards Firegold had his nose broken with a sharp blow.   
  
The bartender placed five mugs of alcohol on her empty tray. "Take this to the table   
over there."  
  
Firegold nodded.   
  
Carrying the mugs of alcohol over to the said table, the entrance of a stranger caught her   
eyes. The stranger was trying hard not to betray his agitation, but his nervousness was   
plain to Firegold. Even as she served the patrons their drinks, she kept a covert eye on   
the stranger, watching as he headed straight for the stairs to the tavern's boarding   
rooms. Her curiosity piqued, Firegold followed him.   
  
The stranger went straight to the room where the boy was being held imprisoned.   
Firegold knew something was brewing. Throughout the day, she had counted at least   
seven people making their way to the room. Stealthily, she went to the door and pressed   
her ear against the surface, listening intently.  
  
"We have to leave," the stranger was saying agitatedly.   
  
"We're not going anywhere until we've received further words from our employer,"   
Brandelam's guard replied. Other voices also spoke, backing their leader.  
  
"The Jedi are here."  
  
Dead silence fell.  
  
"How close are they to finding us?" someone asked in a frightened voice.  
  
"They already knew Kilerim spirited him from the palace. I don't think it'll be long   
before they find the rest of us."   
  
"Shit," a new voice swore. "What the hell are we going to do?"  
  
"Flee the planet and take the boy with us."   
  
"Why don't we just dump the boy?" whined the frightened kidnapper. "It's the boy they   
want."  
  
"And have our employer come after us as well?" snarled Brandelam's guard. "This is the   
Crown Prince you're talking about. He's worth a lot of money, not to say he's our best   
chance of leaving without a fight. Even the Jedi wouldn't dare to do anything to us since   
we got him. Gather up your things. We're leaving now!"   
  
Satisfied that she had heard enough, Firegold abandoned her listening post as silently as   
she had came. It was time to do something. She couldn't leave that boy in the hands of   
these ruffians. Her only problem was how to rescue the boy without drawing attention   
to herself.   
  
***  
  
It was a surprisingly easy interrogation.   
  
The minute Kilerim saw the stern Jedi Master approaching him with a forbidding look   
of determination, he knew the game was up. For how do one fool a Jedi? It didn't take   
Qui-Gon long to get the entire story from him. The only question unanswered was the   
identity of their employer. Kilerim confessed that he had no idea who their masked   
employer was.  
  
"It won't be long to the tavern, Master Jedi," Saberim said.   
  
Qui-Gon nodded, watching the forward window as the royal guard transport whizzed   
out of the palace grounds and down into the capital city nestled within the mountain   
valley.  
  
"If I may say so, Master Jedi, I'm impressed with the speed of your investigation. Never   
have I seen a crime solved and the culprits brought to justice so quickly before. The Jedi   
indeed deserved their reputation."  
  
"We do what we have to do, Saberim. There is nothing to it," Qui-Gon replied serenely.  
  
A sharp spike of fear suddenly rippled through the Force. Qui-Gon exchanged a terse   
look with Obi-Wan. It was definitely the Crown Prince and he was close by...and in   
danger.  
  
"Saberim, how fast can this transport go?"   
  
Saberim was quick to realise the unspoken urgency in Qui-Gon's request. "Faster than   
our current speed." He turned and gave the order to the pilot to increase the transport's   
speed.  
  
Obi-Wan forced himself to relax, though his hand strayed to his lightsaber clipped to his   
belt. "I hope we're in time, Master."  
  
Qui-Gon didn't say a word. He was pretty much praying for the same thing.  
  
***  
  
Brandelam watched wide-eyed as the figure dressed all in black, hooded and masked,   
ambushed the kidnappers in the narrow corridor outside the room. Moving too fast for   
the eye to see clearly, his rescuer knocked down the two kidnapper bringing up the rear   
and boldly snatched him from right under their noses.   
  
Grabbing onto the slim shoulders for dear life, Brandelam squeezed his eyes shut when   
he saw the kidnappers firing in their direction as his rescuer fled up to the roof of the   
tavern building.   
  
Bursting onto the roof, his mysterious rescuer swiftly hid behind a ventilation shaft, still   
carefully cradling the Crown Prince. Brandelam stared up at the hooded masked visage,   
wondering if he was friend or foe. Then he saw the thin tress of red-gold hair escaping   
from beneath the black hood and he knew who had rescued him.  
  
"Firegold!" Crowing joyfully, Brandelam threw his arms about her neck and hugged her   
tightly. "I knew you would do something!"  
  
Firegold gently patted his head.  
  
The door leading to the roof burst open again as the kidnappers poured onto the   
rooftop.   
  
"Search the place!" shouted the leader. "I want the boy back!"  
  
Brandelam cowered against Firegold, fear overtaking him again. He tightened his grip on   
Firegold's shoulders. She simply held him closer, while eyeing the neighbouring rooftop   
over his head.   
  
Then as though taken by the wind, Firegold leapt to her feet and raced for the edge of   
the roof. Shouts behind her told her the kidnappers were giving chase, but she did not   
look back, her concentration centred on the wide gap that was humanly impossible to   
cross between the buildings.  
  
From the royal guard transport, Obi-Wan watched stunned as the woman made the   
impossible leap between the buildings without the aid of the Force. She rolled to break   
her fall, rising back to her feet in a fluid motion, despite being hampered with an armful   
of Crown Prince. The fall had knocked her hood back, and her crimson-gold hair glinted   
brightly under the bright sun.  
  
//Did you see that?// Obi-Wan didn't know whether to believe his eyes or not.  
  
//Later, Obi-Wan.// Qui-Gon was intrigued as well, but there was pressing matter at   
hand. //The Crown Prince first.//   
  
On the rooftop, Firegold instinctively ducked down as the royal guard transport   
suddenly screamed low above her. When she looked up again, she saw two men dressed   
in similar dark robes and cream-coloured tunics leapt down from the transport to   
confront the kidnappers still trapped on the other rooftop. Each carried a rod of blazing   
light.  
  
"We've come to retrieve the Crown Prince," Qui-Gon spoke. "Lay down your   
weapons." He held his lightsaber in an easy grip, though he was alert for any signs of   
danger.  
  
The kidnappers seemed at a loss of what to do, daunted by the appearance of not one   
but two Jedi. Not the leader though. He suddenly fired his blaster, aiming straight for   
Obi-Wan. It was the last mistake he would ever made. Obi-Wan deftly deflected the   
blaster bolt back to the leader, killing him.  
  
"Who's next?" he asked calmly.   
  
With the loss of their leader, the rest of the kidnappers surrendered.  
  
The Jedi shut down their lightsabers, stepping back to allow the royal guard led by   
Saberim to arrest the kidnappers. Qui-Gon caught sight of the mysterious masked   
woman standing on the neighbouring roof, still cradling the Crown Prince protectively   
in her arms.  
  
Tapping the Force, Qui-Gon easily vaulted across the wide chasm in a single leap. Beside   
him, Obi-Wan did a somersault. The woman backed away from them, as the Jedi   
approached.  
  
"Wait," Qui-Gon said. "We're not here to hurt you."  
  
Qui-Gon opened himself to the Force, sending calmness and safety towards the wary   
woman. He met a strange resistance, rebuffing his attempt. Then he felt Obi-Wan's   
focus joined his, and he redoubled his efforts to soothe the mysterious woman.  
  
"You're safe. The Crown Prince is safe. We're here to bring him home." Qui-Gon   
spread his empty hands outward, a gesture of peace. "Let us help him."  
  
"Trust him, Firegold." Brandelam urged. "Jedi never lie. And I really want to go home."  
  
Firegold studied the Crown Prince for a long moment, then nodded. Interesting how   
she seemed to trust the words of the Crown Prince, rather that of a Jedi, Qui-Gon   
noted absently. Slowly, still wary, she approached the Jedi, removing the mask she wore.  
  
Obi-Wan blinked.   
  
Standing before them was a petite, fine-boned woman with a pale face and delicate   
features. Her tightly bound crimson-gold hair was a vivid contrast against the paleness of   
her skin. There was something ethereal about her, gentle and fragile, guileless and   
vulnerable like a child - until he looked into her luminous green eyes. They were cold   
and remote - the eyes of someone who had seen too many terrible things than it was   
possible. Whoever she was, this enigma wasn't as innocent as one was compelled to   
believe.   
  
"Greetings, Your Highness." Qui-Gon greeted. "Your parents sent us to bring you   
home."  
  
"Can my friend come too?" Brandelam asked hopefully. "Her name's Firegold. She's not   
my kidnapper. She took care of me."  
  
Qui-Gon probed the woman standing silently with his mind. He was intrigued to find a   
presence so still and passive that it was almost non-existing. And her emotions! Either   
she has nerves of steel and iced water running through her veins, or she was genuinely   
limited in her range of emotions.  
  
"Can she come?" Brandelam pleaded.  
  
"Of course," Qui-Gon answered somewhat belatedly. He smiled at the woman. "Your   
parents will be eager to meet your protector."  
  
***  
  
As the royal guard transport headed back for the palace perched on the mountain cliff,   
someone else emerged from the shadows from the building across the street. Gigantic in   
build and swathed in so many layers of clothes, the observer tracked the transport with   
his eyes until it had vanished in the distance.  
  
It was time to act, while she still remained in the open.  
  
A cruel smile curving his lips, he melted back into the shadows.  
  
_____________________________________________________________________  
  
~ THREE ~  
  
Qui-Gon smiled softly to himself as he watched the joyful reunion between the Royal   
Co-Consorts and their son. Their happiness and love for each other echoed through the   
Force, like a cleansing white light.   
  
Obi-Wan had a grin that stretched from ear to ear. Qui-Gon understood his lack of Jedi   
composure. It always feel good to be the instrument to something nice once in a while.   
Then he caught sight of Firegold and his own smile turned curious.  
  
Firegold hung back from everyone else, observing from the background. In fact she was   
so quiet and unobtrusive that even the Jedi had almost forgotten she was there. Qui-  
Gon studied her discreetly. The strange woman was watching Brandelam's reunion with   
his parents with a face still like a mirror. Her poise was relaxed, yet Qui-Gon sensed a   
wariness in her, as though she was constantly on her guard. She intrigued him, as much   
as she rankled Obi-Wan's vigilance.   
  
Throughout the journey back to the palace, Firegold hadn't said a single word.   
Brandelam had told him - quite importantly - that she couldn't speak and he was her   
voice. And the Crown Prince had made it quite clear to everyone present that she was to   
be treated as a honoured guest, even asking the Jedi to protect her.   
  
Qui-Gon solemnly gave the heir to the throne his word, aware of his apprentice's   
disapproval. In Obi-Wan's eyes, she was a complete unknown, not to be trusted until it   
could be determined whether she was a foe or an ally. Qui-Gon had a completely   
different opinion: Firegold was someone who needed help and needed it quite badly.   
  
//Master?// queried Obi-Wan's mental voice.  
  
//Yes, Padawan?//  
  
//I can't help but notice your...preoccupation with her.//  
  
Qui-Gon glanced back at his apprentice. To the world at large, Obi-Wan was paying   
attention to the reunion happening before them. But the curiosity and slight disapproval   
he could sense from the younger man painted a different picture.  
  
//She is a mystery, Obi-Wan. You can't deny that.//  
  
//I'm not, Master. But she may be a danger.//  
  
//I don't sense danger from her. In fact, I believe she needs help.//  
  
Obi-Wan shot his Master an incredulous look. //From the way she handled herself back   
there on the rooftop, I doubt she needs help.//  
  
//Ah, Padawan, that's where you're mistaken. A cry for help can come in many   
different forms.//  
  
//So what are you going to do with her?// Obi-Wan's mental voice sounded resigned,   
as though he already knew what his Master was going to do.  
  
Qui-Gon smiled inwardly, perversely amused at his apprentice's resignation. //Help her,   
what else?//  
  
//I was afraid of that,// Obi-Wan sighed.  
  
Qui-Gon pulled his attention back to the present when the Royal Co-Consorts   
approached them with their son in tow. Branam was grinning widely, unable to keep his   
joy to himself, and his wife was equally radiant in her happiness.  
  
"Master Jinn, Padawan Kenobi, thank you. Thank you for bringing our son home to us."  
  
"We're glad to be of service, Your Majesties." Qui-Gon replied. "But the truth is, we   
owed our success to the lady here. She helped the Crown Prince to escape from his   
kidnappers."   
  
"Ah yes, the lady Firegold." Branam walked briskly over to her. "My son has been telling   
me of your acts of friendship during his captivity. You have my eternal gratitude. Name   
your reward and if it's within my power, I'll fulfil it."  
  
Firegold looked lost for a moment, then she hesitatingly pointed to the window. Branam   
drew a blank, not understanding what she was asking for. It was his son who   
comprehended her gesture.  
  
"A ship! She wants a ship!" Brandelam's excited face felled as the import of her request   
finally struck him. "You don't wish to stay here with me? To be my friend?"  
  
Kneeling down, Firegold placed a fist first over her heart, then over his. Qui-Gon   
recognised the gesture. It stood for 'companions always'. The gesture eased the gloom   
on Brandelam's face but not much.   
  
"You'll come visit?" he asked hopefully.  
  
Firegold nodded solemnly, smoothing a hand through his hair.  
  
"Firegold? Will you smile for me?"  
  
She blinked in surprise.  
  
"A small one. Please?"   
  
Slowly, the corners of her lips lifted upward and a tentative smile grew. It was a small   
smile, barely creasing the sides of her mouth but it was enough to make the Crown   
Prince beam with laughter.  
  
Qui-Gon had to hide a smile of his own. The Crown Prince had a charm that was all too   
apparent in his young age. He foreseen that someday the young heir would be leaving a   
trail of broken hearts in court.  
  
The sudden surge in the Force alerted the Jedi to the danger precious seconds before it   
happened. Reacting instantly, Qui-Gon reached out with the Force and yanked the   
Crown Prince and Firegold away from the spot of danger, while Obi-Wan did the same   
for the Royal Co-Consorts. With Jedi speed, they moved everyone to safety, split second   
before the ceiling came crashing down in a heavy fall of rubble.  
  
As the dust settled, Qui-Gon looked up from his protective crouch over the Crown   
Prince and Firegold. His eyes widened. There was a massive hole in the ceiling, and   
standing on top of the pile of rubble in the centre of the Throne Room was a creature   
he had only heard of in Jedi lore.  
  
It was a cyborg, as tall as a Wookie and twice a Wookie's size. A monstrosity, a perverse   
marriage of the organic with technology. Death-coloured flesh grafted intricately with   
the metallic shades of cybernetic components. At least his head retained some   
resemblance to a human head, though it was heavily replaced and fortified by cybernetic   
parts and his eyes glowed a devilish-red. He thrummed with an inhuman power that   
none in his path could stand up to. Death and violence clung to the cyborg like a   
pervasive black cloud.  
  
The cyborg was motionless as he stared at Qui-Gon slowly rising to his feet. The Jedi   
Master remained calm beneath that flat stare, even though he sensed movements behind   
him. That seemed to draw the cyborg's attention, as he turned his artificial eyes to look   
beyond him.  
  
"Marionette," the cyborg spoke, "it has been a long time."  
  
Qui-Gon risked a glance over his shoulder. Firegold stood tall and unafraid, body turned   
sideways to shield the frightened Crown Prince in her arms. He thought she looked   
haunted, but he couldn't be sure, not from his angle.   
  
//Master?// came his apprentice's worried call.  
  
Qui-Gon's gaze unerringly found Obi-Wan at the other end of the Throne Room,   
lightsaber blazing. His apprentice had removed his Jedi robe in preparation of a fight.   
He could not see the Royal Co-Consorts anywhere though. //Have you seen the Co-  
Consorts to safety?//  
  
//Yes, Master. They escaped through a hidden passageway behind the throne. Master,   
what is that thing?//  
  
//A cyborg. And he is after Firegold.//   
  
Behind him, he could sense Firegold slowly inching towards the great double doors of   
the Throne Room. The cyborg tracked her movements, never taking his eyes off her.   
Qui-Gon decided to draw his attention away from her. The powering up of his   
lightsaber did the trick. Qui-Gon coolly shed his Jedi robe and assumed a defensive   
stance, even as the cyborg nailed him with an unholy glare.   
  
For a dizzying moment, his surroundings seemed to shift and warp. And instead of the   
cyborg, he seemed to see a black-cloaked figure with a demon's face and bloodlust   
burning deep in yellow eyes confronting him. Then the vision (if that's what it is) passed   
and he was back in the here and now, facing down a cyborg.   
  
"Touch her not," Qui-Gon warned.  
  
"My master has decreed her death."  
  
"The woman is under Jedi protection."  
  
The cyborg made a threatening gesture. "Step aside, human. You cannot defeat me."  
  
"Do not underestimate the power of a Jedi."  
  
Sensing that Firegold was finally at the double doors, Qui-Gon sent a quick mental   
thought to Obi-Wan and made a flicking motion. Beneath the cyborg's feet, the pile of   
rubble shifted and collapsed. Unbalanced, the cyborg tumbled to the floor. Qui-Gon   
took this opportunity to attack, sensing his apprentice doing the same from opposite   
side.  
  
The cyborg remained infernally fast despite the position of weakness he found himself   
in. Blocking Qui-Gon's lightsaber with a heavily armoured arm, the cyborg pushed the   
Jedi Master away and rolled to his feet, fluidly countering Obi-Wan's attack. Beyond the   
Jedi, the cyborg saw his quarry escaping and he let loose a roar of fury.   
  
The cry rumbled through the doors and the stone walls of the palace even as Fireball   
slipped outside to safety. Just in time to meet the royal guards falling into attack position   
in the hallway.  
  
"Your Highness!" Saberim greeted with relief. He quickly gestured for his man to come   
forward to take the Crown Prince.   
  
"The Jedi," Brandelam pointed at the double doors. "You've to help the Jedi."  
  
"We will contain the situation, Your Highness. Right now, we must get you to safety."  
  
Brandelam was safely ensconced in the arms of a royal retainer when he realised Firegold   
made no moves to join him. His friend was staring at the double doors, a somewhat   
uncertain look on her face.  
  
"Firegold? You can join me. You'll be safe with me."  
  
Slowly, Firegold shook her head, a look of resolve settling on her face. Brandelam didn't   
like that expression at all.   
  
"Are you going to fight the monster?"  
  
She nodded, stroking Brandelam's hair one last time. Then she sprang into action,   
moving so fast that no one could react in time. Before Saberim's astonished eyes, she   
snatched a blast-rifle from him and darted back into the Throne Room, slamming shut   
the heavy doors in their faces.  
  
In the Throne Room, Qui-Gon was tiring rapidly. The cyborg was inhumanly fast and   
strong. It took all their Jedi speed and strength just to stay alive. Obi-Wan wasn't faring   
much better either. The cyborg, on the other hand, remained as relentless as ever. They   
have to strike the cyborg down and soon, before the cyborg's superior attributes   
overwhelm their Force-enhanced abilities.  
  
The cyborg feinted to the right. Qui-Gon matched its attack accordingly. Obi-Wan   
somersaulted over him to trap the cyborg between them. Lightsabers swinging, they   
pressed their attack.   
  
The cyborg countered and parried, faked a left, then shot out an open palm towards   
Obi-Wan. A burst of blue energy hit the Padawan point-blank in the chest. Obi-Wan   
screamed as the energy shock jolted through him. Crumpling, he writhed on the floor in   
agony.   
  
Distracted by his apprentice's distress, Qui-Gon couldn't avoid the clawed fingers   
swinging his way. The claws dug painfully into his shoulder and tore away a good piece   
of his tunic, leaving behind deep bloody gashes on his shoulder and down his sword   
arm. Fire burning through him, the Jedi Master dropped his lightsaber. The next blow   
caught him in his midsection, throwing him way across the Throne Room.   
  
Qui-Gon laid sprawled on the floor in a heap, dazed from the blow, mind too clouded   
with pain to feel the Force clearly. Head swimming, clutching at his wounded arm, he   
found it hard to catch his breath. He didn't need the Force to know he cracked a rib or   
two, and his sword arm was useless.  
  
The cyborg advanced menacingly towards the downed Qui-Gon. "The power of a Jedi is   
nothing compared to mine."  
  
The impact of a laser bolt against his side caught the cyborg by surprise.   
  
Firegold stood near the pile of rubble, blast-rifle in hands. There was a look of such   
resolve and unspeakable emotions on her face that it drew Qui-Gon from the all-  
consuming agony of his injuries.   
  
"So you've finally decided to stop running," said the cyborg.  
  
Firegold didn't reply. She simply opened fire again. The cyborg barely flinched, as he   
smoothly changed direction and charged towards the slender woman.  
  
Standing her ground, Firegold met the monstrosity's headlong charge with a spectacular   
blow. She smashed the blast-rifle into the face of the cyborg with such force that the   
weapon was instantly mangled. The cyborg staggered, stunned by the blow. Pressing her   
advantage, she whacked it again with the blast-rifle. Tossing the useless remnants of the   
weapon aside, she followed up with her fists, never allowing the cyborg to regain his   
balance.  
  
Clutching at his wounds, arm hanging uselessly by his side, Qui-Gon struggled painfully   
to sit up. He wanted very much to help Firegold, but he was out of the action for the   
moment. There was nothing he could do until he had regained some kind of advantage.   
Clearing his mind, Qui-Gon drew liberally from the Force to ease his pain, heal his   
wounds and boost his weakened state. He glanced worriedly across the Throne Room   
and was relieved to see his apprentice too feebly stirring. Then he turned his attention   
back to the battle.   
  
There was no grace nor finesse in the fight raging before his eyes. Only brute strength   
versus brute strength.   
  
He has seriously misread the woman, Qui-Gon realised. For someone of small stature   
and apparently gentle disposition, Firegold has a strength and speed equal to that of the   
cyborg's. She was as relentless and ferocious as the cyborg had been, forcing the cyborg   
to be on the defensive.  
  
Grabbing the cyborg, Firegold threw him face-down on the floor. Never releasing her   
grip, she pounded his face into the stone floor again and again with such force that the   
stone floor cracked and shattered.  
  
//Master...?// came the almost voiceless whisper.  
  
//Obi-Wan, are you all right?// Qui-Gon asked anxiously.  
  
//Numb...can't move. I definitely have better days,// Obi-Wan replied with a trace of   
his battle humour. Then he turned serious. //What is she, Master?//   
  
//I don't know, Padawan. I don't know.//  
  
The cyborg suddenly bucked, throwing Firegold off his back. She went flying into the   
pile of rubble. Before she could recover from the impact, the cyborg was upon her, one   
hand pressing cruelly against her throat and the other fist aiming for her chest. Firegold   
blocked his move, pushing against his fist, even as she clawed at his death grip tightening   
about her throat with her other hand.   
  
Seeing the danger she was in, Qui-Gon moved instinctively to help. Reaching out with   
the Force, he grasped hold of his fallen lightsaber with his mind alone and guided its   
path through the air. Whirling and humming, the glowing blade of his lightsaber sliced   
the back of the cyborg.   
  
The cyborg howled in pain and turned to confront this new opponent.  
  
Firegold reacted, slamming her feet into the cyborg and pushed the cyborg away, off-  
balance. Springing from her fallen position, she slammed into the cyborg, tackling him   
to the floor. She bunched her fists together and rammed the cyborg's chest. There was   
the awful sound of metal buckling beneath her blow.   
  
The cyborg screeched in fury and pain.  
  
She hammered again, this time easily breaking through the cyborg's armoured shell. Red   
fluid, distressingly like the colour of blood, spurted outward to stain her face and   
clothes. As the cyborg let out a metallic roar of fury, Firegold reached in and yanked out   
a handful of components, arm stained in blood up to the elbow. The cyborg's screech   
turned into one of agony.   
  
Suddenly, much too swiftly for anyone to notice, capture cables snaked from the   
cyborg's arms to wrap about Firegold's body and neck. Surprised, she struggled to break   
free, but the cables only tightened their painful grip on her, crushing the breath from   
her.  
  
Qui-Gon guided his lightsaber to her rescue, the blazing blade hurling towards the fallen   
cyborg intent on killing Firegold. Despite his speed, the cyborg easily evaded his striking   
lightsaber, moving towards the wide balcony overseeing the deep river valley below.  
  
The Jedi Master followed, ignoring the pain coursing through his body. His lightsaber   
floated before him. He was the greatest swordsman among the Jedi ranks; wielding his   
lightsaber with his mind alone was an easy feat for him, one that came from years of   
training. But in his current condition, beset by pain with every movement he made, he   
found it hard to concentrate.  
  
The cyborg fared not much better himself. His movements were uncoordinated, jerky   
even. Broken ends trailed from his broken chest, and blood flowed from severed tubes,   
staining the floor and making it slippery for Qui-Gon. Firegold laid limp in his capture   
cables, unconscious, her only free arm flung away from her body, as she was dragged out   
into the balcony by the cyborg.   
  
"Release her," Qui-Gon commanded as he advanced towards the cyborg, backing him   
towards the edge of the wide balcony.  
  
The cyborg grinned a feral grin. "Make me."  
  
Qui-Gon pressed on, trying to find a way to free Firegold without getting her further   
injured. They were out on the spacious balcony now, the wind howling and tearing at   
Qui-Gon's clothes. He was acutely aware of actually how high up they were on the   
mountain.   
  
Suddenly, Firegold burst into desperate action. Right before Qui-Gon's startled eyes, she   
sprang from her prone position and lunged into the cyborg, pushing him towards the   
balcony edge. With a roar of startled fear, the cyborg toppled over the stone railing. Qui-  
Gon frantically leapt forward, grabbing Firegold's free arm just as she was dragged over   
the edge by the heavy weight of the cyborg. Pain shot up his good arm, but Qui-Gon   
gritted his teeth against it, willing himself not to loose his grip on Firegold. She was still   
trapped in the capture cables of the cyborg, unable to shake free.   
  
And there Firegold hung, the Jedi Master her rope to safety and the cyborg her dead   
weight to death.   
  
Qui-Gon summoned up the last dregs of his reserves of the Force, even hesitatingly   
tapping his Padawan's reserves. A renewed flow of strength rushed through him, as Obi-  
Wan sensed his plight and willingly gave him his strength.   
  
Pull, Qui-Gon told himself. And he did, by slow agonising inches.  
  
"No!" the cyborg roared. "I will not die alone."  
  
The cyborg raised his other arm, palm open and aimed at Qui-Gon, a point of glowing   
blue energy growing in intensity in the centre of his palm. Firegold's eyes widened when   
she saw the threat and she involuntarily looked up at the Jedi Master.   
  
Luminous green gaze met midnight blue. In that moment, a connection was made,   
unknowingly tying them together.  
  
Qui-Gon saw the decision in her eyes; he tried to stop her, but she was too quick.   
Firegold twisted her arm from Qui-Gon's grasp. Freed from the rope tying her to safety,   
she plummeted down the vast valley, taking the cyborg with her.   
  
Mere heartbeats later, Qui-Gon felt the death shudder through the Force.  
_____________________________________________________________________  
  
~ EPILOGUE ~  
  
The journey back to Coruscant was quiet.   
  
Obi-Wan, fully recovered from the energy shock, hovered uncertainly outside his   
Master's cabin on board the Republic cruiser. Injuries aside, Qui-Gon had been   
withdrawn and silent in the last three days. Somehow Firegold's sacrifice had affected   
the Jedi Master deeply and Obi-Wan was concerned. Yet his Master's mood was such   
that he had no idea how to approach him.   
  
Well, no point in debating the issue now. Something had to be done. Obi-Wan took a   
deep breath and released it, centring his focus. Mentally bracing himself for his Master's   
gloomy mood, Obi-Wan knocked on the closed door.  
  
"Master?"  
  
Silence for a moment.  
  
//Come in, Obi-Wan.//  
  
Entering the cabin, Obi-Wan paused to let his eyes adjust to the dim interior. Qui-Gon   
was seated cross-legged on the deck, eyes closed in a healing trance, Jedi robe folded   
neatly about his tall frame. Beneath his robe, Qui-Gon was bare-chest, his shoulder   
heavily bound in bandages and his equally bandaged arm rested beside his lap. He looked   
serene as always. No longer did lines of pain marked his face.  
  
//Join me, Obi-Wan. It's been a while since we've meditated together.//  
  
Obediently, Obi-Wan sat on the cold deck beside his Master. Drawing his robe close   
about his body, the Padawan closed his eyes and descended into a light meditative   
trance. Master and Padawan's minds reached out and melded easily, as they have done it   
so many times in the past. In this state they remained, meditating, until Qui-Gon felt it   
was time to address the real issue at hand.  
  
//You are troubled, Padawan.//  
  
//There are many questions which remained unanswered.//  
  
//Such as?//  
  
//The mastermind behind the Crown Prince's kidnapping? The cyborg's real motive?   
And...// Obi-Wan hesitated, then went on gamely. //...the woman Firegold.//  
  
Obi-Wan fell silent, waiting with abated breath for Qui-Gon's response. His Master did   
not speak for several long moments until he feared he would never get his answer.  
  
//The identity of the mastermind would have to be solved by Saberim, not us.// Qui-  
Gon spoke at last, in the same measured tone that was his wont. //It's clear someone in   
the Theomoralan court is the mastermind and the case will involve politics. As Jedi, we   
cannot interfere in politics. Our task was to rescue the Crown Prince and bring him   
home safe and sound. No more, no less.//  
  
//I understand, Master. Still, I cannot help but wonder who's the mastermind.//  
  
//As do I, Obi-Wan.//  
  
The admission surprised Obi-Wan. Qui-Gon felt his apprentice's reaction and let loose a   
mental chuckle. //I may be Jedi, but I am also human.//  
  
Obi-Wan smiled. Then he turned serious. //We know nothing of the cyborg as well,   
Master.//  
  
//No, we do not.// Qui-Gon conceded.   
  
They fell silent again.  
  
The cyborg had been smashed to smithereens on the jagged rocks of the cliff-side,   
totally unsalvageable. With his memory banks completely destroyed, there was no way to   
identify the cyborg, nor to find out where he was from or why he was sent to kill   
Firegold. The Royal Co-Consorts agreed to keep the remains in cold storage until such   
time the Jedi Council could send better experts to unravel the mystery.  
  
As for Firegold, there was no trace of her body anywhere, leaving them to guess that the   
rushing river had washed it away or she had survived the fall, impossible as that may   
sound.   
  
//These are not the issues that truly occupy your mind, Obi-Wan.//  
  
Obi-Wan sighed silently. Trust his Master to see right through him. //Firegold's death   
affect you deeply, Master.//  
  
Qui-Gon did not say anything.   
  
Gamely, Obi-Wan went on. //I can understand the Crown Prince's grief. After all, she   
was his protector during his captivity. But we...you have known her for a few hours,   
that's all.// He paused, trying to frame his question properly. //Her sacrifice was noble,   
but why does her death affect you so deeply?//  
  
Qui-Gon remained silent.  
  
And Obi-Wan realised that he did not know the answer as well.  
  
_____________________________________________________________________  
  
~ THE END ~ 


	2. Kai

Name : Cyberoid13  
Website : www.geocities.com/Area51/Shadowlands/3113  
Email : cyberoid13@yahoo.com  
  
Title : Crossing Paths (Part Two) - Kai  
Summary : Qui-Gon crosses path with the mysterious woman for the second time.  
Date of completion : 14th Sept 1999  
Category : Rise of the Emperor (drama)  
Rating : PG  
  
Author's comments : If there is a lot of questions left unanswered, please  
don't scream 'cause I deliberately left it that way. Kai or Firegold is an  
original character of mine and the hints here are simply indications of her  
history which I am hammering down in my original story. I apologise for the  
questions, but I ain't rectifying the situation. Not yet, at least.   
This entire story sprang from a dialogue exchange from TPM between Qui-Gon  
Jinn and Jar Jar Binks. Jar Jar was defending his intelligence, to which  
Qui-Gon retorted, "The ability to speak does not make one intelligent." I  
have no idea how that one sentence sparked off this story, but it did. So here  
it is.  
BTW, like in the first instalment, think 'anime action' for this one as well.  
The events in this story occurred just before TPM, so there's minor spoiler  
for the movie.  
  
Disclaimer : All Star Wars characters belonged to George Lucas and Lucasfilm.  
I don't owe them at all and I don't make money from them.  
  
Note : //...// indicates telepathy  
-...- written speech  
  
_____________________________________________________________________________  
  
CROSSING PATHS ( II ) - KAI  
  
by  
Cyberoid13  
  
_____________________________________________________________________________  
  
~ PROLOGUE ~  
  
The shift in the gladiators' mood roused K'avin Tetara from his light  
meditative trance. Rising to his feet, he edged over to the bars of his prison  
cell, oblivious to the chains shackling his wrists and feet. He peered out  
into the dimly lit gladiator dungeons, noticing that every occupant was doing  
the same thing, as the guards entered the dungeons with their burden.  
  
"R'urn!" roared a gladiator suddenly in anguish.   
  
T'juro, K'avin noted silently. And his scream revealed to one and all what had  
happened to the gladiators' unspoken leader. A muttering grew among the  
gladiators as the guards brought their burden to the centre of the dungeons -  
the horrible news travelling faster than wildfire.   
  
K'avin watched as the lead guard strode briskly into the centre of the dungeons,   
commanding his underlings to lay their burden on the none-too-clean medical  
table. Outside, he heard the heavy iron door clung nosily open again.  
  
"Kai!" he heard T'juro called in desperation. "Thanks the gods you are here!  
Help R'urn. He's been hurt badly. Help him!"   
  
The gladiators' diminutive caretaker skidded to a halt in the centre of this  
horrible place. As always, her physical presence caused him to inhale sharply,  
for her singular beauty was like a cleansing light in this dreary place.   
  
She was pale, slender and delicate, like a fragile art of crystal and starlight.  
She wore a rough-spun tunic of grey-white, sleeveless vest and breeches of  
faded brown. A slave collar encircled her graceful neck. Her crimson-gold hair  
hung nearly to her hips in a long thick braid, the dangling end tucked into  
her belt. She darted to the gladiator's side, preparing to save the profusely  
bleeding man.  
  
The guards fell back, letting the caretaker do her job. The gladiators watched  
in anxious silence, as Kai fought to save the life of the man whom they depended  
upon for strength in this despairing place.   
  
Kai, her gentle face set in concentration, deftly removed R'urn's ruined armour.  
Her luminous green eyes widened when she saw the distinctive gash across the  
dark belly. The wound was deep and the blood was turning black. Her concern  
increased. His liver had been punctured. Her skills and basic medical tools  
would not be enough to save his life. Stanching the wound with thick wads of  
cloth, she gestured to the lead guard.  
  
"She said to send him to the infirmary now," K'avin promptly translated for  
her, knowing full well that the guards did not know the sign language.  
  
"I would have to get the Governor-Regent's approval," replied the lead guard.  
  
Kai gestured again.  
  
"He will die quickly if he does not receive medical help," K'avin translated.  
He watched her flashing hand signs, then continued, "or you would rather  
explain to the Governor-Regent how his most prized gladiator die because you  
did not take action fast enough?"  
  
The lead guard swallowed, turning pale. Incurring the Governor-Regent's wrath  
was not a healthy thing to do.   
  
"You!" He pointed to one of his underlings. "Run to the infirmary, tell him  
we have an injured coming in. Kai, bind him up for the trip. I'll - "  
  
"You will do no such thing," a new voice cut in from the shadows.  
  
Everyone jumped; K'avin's gaze snapped to the shadows, surprised that someone  
had managed to enter the dungeons within his knowing.   
  
The lead guard bristled. Here he was the commander; nobody contradict his  
order. And certainly no one ranking lower than him entered the dungeons  
without his permission first.   
  
"Who are you? How dare you - " His voice died when the shadowed warrior  
emerged from the shadows.   
  
K'avin studied the shadowed warrior with expert eyes.   
  
He was medium build, shorter than most of the gladiators in the dungeons and  
topping Kai by a head. He was swathed in a heavy black cloak that hid his body  
and face from view. An air of violence and danger clung to him like a black  
cloud.  
  
Everyone cringed back as the shadowed warrior stopped at the medical table and  
glanced down at R'urn fighting to stay alive.   
  
"You fought well."  
  
The dying gladiator glared up at him. "Anything to keep you from taking Kai away."   
  
The news came as a shock to everyone. K'avin looked sharply at Kai, as did  
everyone else, but her back was facing him. She was staring very hard at Set.  
From his angle, K'avin could not see her expression.  
  
"She will come with me." Set transferred his gaze from the dying gladiator to  
Kai. "Sooner or later."  
  
R'urn started to say something but a spasm of agony had him curled up on the  
medical table. As though his pain broke the spell, Kai reached for her medical  
kit. A gauntlet hand clamped heavily over her thin wrist, stopping her movement.  
  
"No."   
  
Kai twisted her wrist to free her limb, but Set's grip was steel. "It was a  
battle to the death. The Governor-Regent and I will not let you save his life."  
  
If Kai was capable of feeling outrage, K'avin was sure this was it. She stared  
at Set, jaws firmly set and a frown between her brows. Her eyes were cold.  
Somehow, with minimum expression, she was able to convey her rage and grief.  
  
"You're a slave. The order came from the Governor-Regent." Set finally released  
her wrist. "You know what that means."  
  
Kai gestured.  
  
Apparently Set knew the Universal sign language. He nodded and stepped away  
from the medical table.   
  
"You'll have your final moment with him." Set paused before melting back into  
the shadows. "I trust you'll keep her from saving his life, Commander."   
  
"As you wish, my lord." The lead guard replied hastily.  
  
"Report to me when he's dead." Then Set was gone, sweeping out the dungeons.   
  
"Kai," R'urn whispered.   
  
The caretaker was immediately by his side, twining one hand into his bloodied  
grasp. Using whatever little strength he had left, R'urn tugged her down until  
he could touch her cheek with his lips.  
  
"Escape. In two days' time."   
  
Kai started to shake her head.  
  
"It's a bet the Governor-Regent made with his business associate. Three  
champions defending you against Set. If we lose two out of three, you're his.  
I'm the first and the best and I cannot defeat him. You have to flee. Promise  
me, Kai, promise me."  
  
Staring at R'urn, fierce determination burning in his rapidly dulling eyes,  
Kai finally nodded. R'urn slumped back against the medical table, contented.  
  
"Thank you," his last whisper exhaled like a breath.   
  
Kai stared at the peaceful face of R'urn for a long moment, then slowly, very  
slowly, she reached out and closed his unseeing eyes.   
  
"NO!" The scream came from T'juro, the cell-mate of R'urn. "No!"  
  
_____________________________________________________________________________  
  
~ ONE ~  
  
For the third time, Obi-Wan Kenobi failed to achieve the calm focused state so  
necessary to a Jedi. He let out a sigh of frustration, raking a hand through  
his short spiky hair. He needed to meditate, to calm himself and refocus, but  
he couldn't. Turmoil churned within him, putting him on the edge. His pale  
blue gaze drifted about the sparse and cramped room he was given.  
  
His chest tightened as recent memories rushed into his mind unbidden...  
  
***  
  
It was nearly six months since they returned from Theomoral.   
  
They had stayed on Coruscant for the first week, allowing Qui-Gon  
plenty of time to fully recover from his injuries. When he was well  
again, the Jedi Council sent them on three more missions - all critical  
situations that needed a Jedi's presence. Qui-Gon had resolved each   
situation to the best of both parties' benefits, and the Council was  
pleased.  
  
Returning to Coruscant after their third and most difficult mission  
as of yet, both Master and Padawan were barely able to take a day's  
respite before the Jedi Council summoned them for their new mission.   
  
"There is a darkness spreading on Karageon," Jedi Master Mace Windu  
began without preamble. "We receive word that the Governor-Regent  
D'maar has been abusing the power of his office."  
  
"And with President G'karel in a mysterious coma, there is no one to  
resist his take over." Qui-Gon wasn't surprised. He long had kept an  
eye on Karageon ever since the news of G'karel's strange illness spread  
through the galaxy. Karageon was a member of the Republican Senate, yet  
far away enough from the Republic's influence. President G'karel was  
fortunately a fair and upright leader, but he couldn't say the same  
for D'maar.  
  
  
Jedi Master Saesee Tiin picked up where Mace left off. "We received a  
plea from the President's son, G'uran, asking the Jedi to aid him to  
remove D'maar from power. We agreed and sent one of our own to resolve  
the situation."  
  
Here's where the plot thickens, Obi-Wan thought. They were never given  
the easy assignments.  
  
"He failed to report in three days ago and we are concerned," Mace  
said in his straightforward manner. He leaned forward, a grave  
expression on his face. "His name is K'avin Tetara."  
  
A jolt of recognition shot through Obi-Wan.   
  
K'avin Tetara! His Master's very first Padawan whose successful  
ascension to Knighthood earned Qui-Gon the level of Master.   
  
Obi-Wan darted a quick glance at his master. Qui-Gon's face remained  
serene as always, but the brief spike of worry he felt through their  
bond gave away his emotions.  
  
"When do we leave?" Qui-Gon simply asked.  
  
Mace handed a memory chip to him. "As soon as you are ready. This chip  
contains all the data we have on Karageon. Seek out G'uran and his  
underground resistance. I believe they will be your only allies on  
Karageon...And Qui-Gon, may I add that your investigation has to be  
very discreet."   
  
Qui-Gon nodded as he accepted the memory chip, knowing 'discreet' was  
just another word for subterfuge. He was well aware of the need to be  
'discreet'. Though the Jedi did not participate in the politics of the  
Senate, they all knew of the ongoing political tussle. Karageon was a  
member of the faction that opposed Valorum's faction. If they found  
out the Jedi were intervening, it could spell further turmoil for an  
already unstable political situation.  
  
Sometimes, he truly hated politics.   
  
"Go swiftly, you must." Yoda spoke up suddenly. "Or cover Karageon,  
darkness will."  
  
Obi-Wan didn't like the sound of that. Qui-Gon bowed low in  
acknowledgement.  
  
"Go now," Mace said. "And may the Force be with you."  
  
***  
  
"Master, I'm curious. How was K'avin like when he was your Padawan?"  
  
Qui-Gon looked up from his portable viewscreen, a thoughtful  
expression on his face.  
  
They were in their quarters, preparing for their upcoming mission.  
While Qui-Gon was reviewing their plan one last time, his apprentice  
was packing their meagre travel bags. Jedi travel light, some lighter  
than most. Now Obi-Wan paused in his task, seated on the edge of  
his sleep-coach, looking expectedly at his Master.  
  
"He was a difficult Padawan learner, in the beginning. Very intelligent  
and quick on his feet. More reckless and hot-headed than you are now."  
Qui-Gon eyed his apprentice sternly. "Which doesn't mean there isn't  
room for you to improve."  
  
Obi-Win only grinned.  
  
"But he calmed somewhat as he grew up, and learnt to temper his  
recklessness with restraint. He was an excellent pupil. When he earned  
the right to be a Jedi Knight, it was the proudest day of my life."   
  
Qui-Gon studied his present Padawan with paternal fondness and pride.  
"You show great promise, Obi-Wan. When the day you are to be conferred  
your Knighthood comes, I will have reason to be proud again."  
  
Obi-Wan didn't say anything. His pleased expression said it all.  
  
***  
  
Ah Master, Obi-Wan thought worriedly. Where are you now?   
  
***  
  
It was no hardship sneaking onto the planet. Qui-Gon will never admit  
it, but both he and his apprentice were adept at sneaking on and off  
a world. In the capital city Serat, they posed as farmers from the  
outskirts. They dressed the part, concealed their lightsabers deep  
within their clothes, and enforced the 'farmer' image with the Force.   
  
The guards at the gate were checking the identification of each and  
every person entering the capital city. But entering Serat proved to  
be equally easy. All Qui-Gon did was to Force-manipulate the guards'  
weak minds. Once inside, they wandered about the city ostensibly  
sightseeing, but in reality, searching for the underground resistance  
led by G'uran.  
  
For several days, they searched but to no avail. One morning, they  
decided to split up. Qui-Gon to take the west side of Serat and Obi-Wan  
the east side.  
  
The young Padawan roamed the slums on the east side of Serat, searching  
for the resistance cell. By midday he was getting impatient. Time was  
slipping through his fingers like sand, and still their investigation  
could not get underway!  
  
//Obi-Wan,// came his Master's mental voice.  
  
//Yes, Master?//  
  
//I've found a member of the underground resistance. However, we are  
arrested by the city guards.//   
  
A surge of alarm rose within Obi-Wan.   
  
//No, don't come after us.// Qui-Gon warned quickly. //I need you to  
contact the underground resistance and help them. Here was where  
E'mura was taking me to before we were intercepted and here is their  
signal code.//  
  
Obi-Wan didn't resist as Qui-Gon let the information flowed into his  
mind. //What about you, Master?//  
  
//I will attempt to resolve the situation from the inside. And hopefully,  
I will be able to find K'avin while I am at it.//   
  
//Very well, Master.//  
  
//May the Force go with you, Padawan.//  
  
***  
  
Obi-Wan sighed.   
  
He did find the underground resistance, identified himself to them and met up  
with G'uran.   
  
The President's son was relieved that the Jedi had not abandoned his cause,  
though he was concerned about Qui-Gon's arrest. He had a plan to overthrow  
D'maar which hinged upon having a Jedi with them. With K'avin arrested, the  
plan was in jeopardy. But now, they could proceed as usual.   
  
They have given him a room, to rest and prepare. That left him about five hours  
to himself. He was quietly mediating when a sharp spike of pain and distress  
echoed through the bond he shared with his Master. When the pain cleared, his  
Master's presence was muted and no matter how much he called, he received no  
reply.  
  
That had put him on the edge for the past one hour. Obi-Wan took a deep breath  
and forcibly cleared his mind. If he was going to be in any shape to help  
G'uran and his Master, he had better start behaving like a Jedi. And that means  
he better regain his calm and balance soon.   
  
***  
  
"Master Jinn?" a worried voice whispered softly.  
  
"I'm conscious, E'mura." Qui-Gon murmured quietly. "Just trying to get my  
bearing."  
  
"You could do better with your eyes open, if I may say." There was dry humour  
in her voice.  
  
Qui-Gon opened his eyes and shifted to a sitting position. "Sometimes, sight  
hinders what I can glean from my other senses."   
  
He looked around at the cage they were locked inside. It was small and cramped,  
barely big enough for two people. It was an even tighter squeeze when one of  
the prisoners was his size. All around them were similar cages, all occupied  
with despairing people.  
  
"This wasn't quite what I was expecting," he remarked.   
  
He had thought to wait until they were inside the presidential grounds and  
effect a quiet escape with the Force. Once free, he planned to disguise  
themselves as part of the presidential staff and work about 'resolving the  
situation' from within. E'mura's sudden resistance took everyone off guard,  
including Qui-Gon himself. Before he could do anything, the guards had stunned  
them, and apparently threw them down here to let something else finish their  
work for them.  
  
"It's going to be worse," E'mura replied grimly. "We're going to be forced to  
participate in the 'Survival of the Fittest'."  
  
"What's that?"  
  
"It's an arena sport," E'mura almost spat the words out. "Poorly armed,  
defenceless people who are thrown into prison, for one reason or the other,  
forced to fight against trained gladiators to the death in front of cheering  
nobles. If you are still standing after ten Standard minutes, you are accepted  
as a slave-gladiator."  
  
"I guess the survival rate is minimal at most time."  
  
"You can say that again. Listen, you can hear the crowd warming up."  
  
Qui-Gon knew what she meant. The background rumble of several hundreds people  
gathering had grown over the past five minutes while he feigned unconsciousness.  
  
E'mura shook her head. "I thought we were going to be executed for sure. The   
Governor-Regent has standing orders that any rebels arrested were to be  
interrogated and then publicly executed."  
  
"It's my doing,." Qui-Gon admitted. "When they arrested us, I persuaded them  
that we were nothing more than simple thieves."  
  
"You're kidding, right?"  
  
"No." A faint smirk graced Qui-Gon's lips. "I'm sure D'maar would not bother  
with a couple of simple thieves." He grew sombre again. "Actually, I was planning  
to use our arrest as a way to get us onto the presidential grounds. Your  
reckless action threw my plan out of the window."  
  
E'mura shrugged. "What can I say? I'm always one for surprises. We're not out  
of the woods yet, Master Jinn. We could still get killed out there in the  
arena."  
  
"Qui-Gon."  
  
"What?"  
  
"Call me Qui-Gon. I would rather no one knows who I really am. And no, we're  
not going to get killed out there."  
  
They fell silent as the arena guards marched into the dungeons, shouting,  
snapping their whips and opening the cages. The prisoners scrambled to get out  
of their cages, suddenly more afraid of the arena guards than their impeding  
death.  
  
Qui-Gon and E'mura silently joined the line forming in the centre of the  
dungeons. They were shackled together by the feet to prevent anyone from  
bolting, and the arena guards marched them to the slaughter field.  
  
_____________________________________________________________________________  
  
~ TWO ~  
  
K'avin tensed when he felt the familiar presence getting closer to his position.  
He remained seated in his cell, knowing an odd move from him would draw  
attention to himself. But he kept his gaze fixed on the heavy iron door,  
anticipating his arrival.  
  
He didn't have to wait long.   
  
Two guards entered. Two prisoners shuffled wearily between them, one woman and  
the other man. They were all manacled. K'avin frowned when he spotted the woman.  
She was a cause for concern. Not only did he recognise her, she was the sole  
female in an otherwise all-male dungeons. He didn't think E'mura was going to  
have an easy time here. He recognised the man as well and he couldn't help a  
smile at seeing him.  
  
To his Jedi senses, the man was projecting an image of a farmer forced to fight  
for his life and was beaten severely in the process. K'avin wasn't fooled. It  
was merely a mental image projected to hide his real identity. What he really  
saw was a Jedi Master, tall and strong, with a warrior's grace and a serene  
dignity all his own. He was a familiar face he hadn't seen in a long while.  
  
The rest of the gladiators watched in contemptuous silence as the new arrivals  
were led to their respective cells.   
  
E'mura was thrown none too gently into an empty cell. K'avin heaved a silent  
sigh of relief. At least she would be safe on her own behind those bars. But  
Qui-Gon...  
  
The Jedi Master made a subtle gesture. "You will put me with Tetara," Qui-Gon   
murmured.  
  
"I will put you with Tetara," echoed the guard. "Tetara! You have company!"   
  
K'avin simply nodded, watching silently as Qui-Gon was shoved into his cell.  
They looked at each other for a long moment, while the guards locked the cell  
again and exited the dungeons.   
  
"That cot is mine," K'avin said gruffly, nodding to his left. //Hello, my  
former master. What brings you here?// "You don't lie on it, you don't go  
anywhere near it."  
  
Qui-Gon moved to take the cot to the right. //You, my friend.// Sitting down,  
he raised his manacled arms. "Are we always shackled?" //I see you are unhurt.//  
  
"All the time. They only take it off when we are about to fight or train."  
//Lucky me. How did they catch you?//   
  
//Long story. And you?// "I guess I should count myself lucky to be alive at  
all."  
  
K'avin snorted. "Don't start counting your blessing yet." //There was a raid of  
one of the underground cells. The concussion grenade took me out before I could  
react.//  
  
"What's your name?" Qui-Gon asked. //Is there anywhere I can hide my lightsaber?//  
  
"K'avin Tetara." //There's a loose brick beneath your cot. I'll cover you.//  
  
"Qui-Gon."   
  
The Jedi Master felt the Force swirling about him as K'avin gently turned  
everyone's attention away from them and blinded them to Qui-Gon's action. The  
Jedi Master swiftly bent down, removed the loose brick and placed his  
lightsaber beside the other one already nestled within. Replacing the brick,  
he resumed his seat on his cot.  
  
"You're an Offworlder," K'avin stated as he released his control over the  
minds of the occupants in the dungeons.   
  
"Just came to Karageon to visit my brother on his farm," Qui-Gon replied easily.  
"Next thing I knew I was arrested for disturbing the peace when I was so  
clearly sleeping in my room."  
  
From his cell, T'juro snorted. "I'm not surprised. Things have been getting  
from bad to worse ever since D'maar became regent."  
  
"I didn't know things were this bad, or I would never have come."  
  
T'juro eyed the 'farmer'. "Not bad for a farmer if you made it through the  
'Survival of the Fittest'."  
  
E'mura snorted from her cell, holding on to her bruised ribs. "He didn't do  
much. He spent the whole time hiding behind me."  
  
K'avin's brows shot up. //You didn't...//  
  
//No, I didn't. Just a story we hatched to keep our covers intact, my friend.//  
  
"Then he better start doing something, or he's going to die his first time out  
in the arena." T'juro glanced at E'mura. "You too as well."  
  
They fell silent again as the dungeon door clung open once more and there came  
the sounds of clomping boots. Qui-Gon listened with both his ears and mind.   
  
One guard. The lone guard came into view, barking, "Get up, fresh meat! It's  
time to meet your caretaker!"   
  
The cell Qui-Gon was sharing with K'avin was the first to be opened. As the  
caretaker stepped into the cell, it took all of Qui-Gon's self-control to mask  
his reaction to her presence.   
  
Pale, gentle face. Delicate build. The crimson-gold hair he remembered so well  
hanging over a shoulder to her hip in a thick braid. The wide luminous green  
eyes now staring at him in puzzlement. Somehow Qui-Gon got the impression that  
she wasn't exactly seeing the image he was projecting with the Force.   
  
"Qui-Gon, meet Kai." K'avin introduced, sensing the Jedi Master's shock even  
though outwardly he remained calm. "Our caretaker."  
  
Kai finally tore her gaze away from Qui-Gon to look at K'avin, a question in  
her eyes. He simply stared back, not understanding. Kai turned back to Qui-Gon  
again, slowly rummaging through her medical kit, all the while staring at him  
with a slight frown.  
  
This time, it was Qui-Gon's turn to increase his exertion on the Force. He  
wrapped the Force around them, maintaining the illusion that she was treating  
his wounds. He didn't bother including K'avin in the illusion. One can't fool  
a brother Jedi.  
  
"I see you're uncertain if I'm truly injured or not," Qui-Gon said. He withdrew  
his influence from Kai, allowing her to see his true self. He was satisfied to  
see her eyes widening in mild shock. "Play along. Regard me as the other person  
you see, but I have no need for medical attention."  
  
Nodding, she silently went about her work. Qui-Gon used the Force to influence  
her perception again, and noted once again the strange resistance rebuffing  
his efforts. This, plus the oddly still and passive nature of her presence in  
the Force, only served to reconfirm what he already knew.  
  
Kai was Firegold.   
  
K'avin was deeply intrigued by the entire by-play. To everyone else, Kai would  
appear to be treating Qui-Gon's non-existing wounds, but he saw the reality  
and sensed the strange tension between them. He eyed his former master questioningly,  
but Qui-Gon was too engrossed in keeping the illusion together and staring at  
Kai to notice his curious gaze.   
  
For Qui-Gon, he couldn't help staring at the vision standing before him, barely  
reaching his chest and not daring to lift her eyes to him. There was only one  
thought running through his head, over and over again.  
  
How did she survive a hundred thousand feet fall to death?   
  
***  
  
D'maar stepped forward to the open crate and lifted a blast-rifle. With practised  
hands, he went through the motions of priming it, testing its quality. Turning  
around suddenly, he opened fired.  
  
The envoy or her assistant didn't even blink as the vase beside her shattered  
into pieces.  
  
"Excellent weapon," D'maar said, pleased with the blast-rifle and secretly  
impressed with the envoy's calm. He placed the weapon back into the crate.  
  
"One hundred pieces as a sample, Governor-Regent." The envoy began calmly. "If  
you are satisfied with the performance of the weapons, five hundred thousand  
will be shipped to you for the first payment. Another five hundred thousand  
for the second payment, and so forth."  
  
"And this is the payment for the sample," D'maar said, gesturing to the two  
containers.  
  
The envoy rose from her chair, her maroon cape rippling behind her. First she  
checked the containers. The agreed cash payment was all there.   
  
"The first batch will be delivered today next week," said the envoy at last.   
  
D'maar smiled pleasantly. "It's always a pleasure to do business with your  
company."  
  
"Thank you. I'll convey your compliments to my boss." The envoy cocked her  
head slightly. "As for our little bet, who will be your champion for tomorrow's  
fight?"  
  
"I was thinking of T'juro. He's the best, excluding R'urn."   
  
"Your gladiators are fine warriors, Governor-Regent. But they will be no match  
for Set. Why don't you give in gracefully?"  
  
D'maar shrugged. "What can I say? I have my eyes on the girl for quite some time  
already. I'm not going to give her up without a fight."  
  
The envoy regarded him with an amused look, as though she knew of a secret that  
he don't. "Very commendable of you. Very well then. I shall see you at dinner  
tonight at eight, is that right?"  
  
"Indeed."  
  
She turned away, beckoning to Set to carry the containers. He stepped forward  
quietly, lifting the two heavy containers of payment without any apparent efforts  
at all. D'maar was suitably impressed. It had taken two of his guards, plus a  
hover-trolley to transport the containers.  
  
D'maar watched them go, his mind already plotting to double-cross his business   
associate.  
  
Outside, Set followed the envoy silently until he was certain they were out of  
earshot. "I do not trust him."  
  
"Neither do I. But we're here on business." The envoy slowed, lowering her voice  
as well. "Keep alert, my pet."  
  
"I am always alert."  
  
***  
  
//You know Kai, don't you?// K'avin asked during their dinner in the centre of  
the dungeons.  
  
Throughout dinner, the Jedi Knight had observed Qui-Gon's interest in the  
redhead caretaker serving them their meal. Kai, for her part, kept stealing  
glances in Qui-Gon's direction.  
  
//From a previous mission,// Qui-Gon replied. //How long had she been here?//  
  
//She wouldn't tell. But T'juro said she had been their caretaker for nearly  
five months. Before that, your guess is as good as mine.// K'avin chewed his  
meat thoughtfully. //She's an enigma. We know nothing about her, not even her  
name. It was R'urn who named her Kai.//  
  
//That's not a Karageonian name.//  
  
//It's our native word for 'silence'. Very appropriate for her. Now care to  
tell me why you're interested in her?//  
  
In their silent fashion, Qui-Gon told him about the mission to Theomoral.   
  
//Six months ago. So she hasn't been on Karageon for long.// K'avin mused.  
//But there's more you're not telling me.//  
  
//What are you talking about?//  
  
K'avin studied his former master. Qui-Gon had been a much younger man when he  
took K'avin as his Padawan. He was already a hard man to read even then as a  
Jedi Knight. As a Master now, Qui-Gon was completely unfathomable, giving  
nothing away. But still, K'avin knew him well enough.   
  
//There's something between you and Kai. And I'm not talking about your  
previous meeting.//  
  
Qui-Gon arched a brow. //You must be mistaken.//  
  
//About you? Hardly. Remember, I once was your Padawan.//   
  
"T'juro," the guard barked, catching everyone's attention. "Better sleep well  
tonight. You'll be fighting Lord Set tomorrow."  
  
An eager bloodthirsty look lighted T'juro's face. No one save the Jedi saw Kai  
looking away with a troubled expression.  
  
//This has to stop,// K'avin declared once they were back in their cell.   
  
//Calm yourself. You won't do anyone any good by going off half-cocked.//  
  
//But -//  
  
//Patience, K'avin. That is a Jedi's strongest asset.//  
  
//Yes, Master.// His reply made K'avin smile sheepishly. //Thanks, I think.//  
  
//You're welcomed, K'avin.// Qui-Gon replied serenely as he lied down on his  
cot. Centring himself, Qui-Gon sent out the call through the bond he shared  
with his Padawan. //Obi-Wan?//  
  
//Master!// Came the loudly relieved thought. //Where are you now?//  
  
//In the gladiator dungeons with K'avin. And you?//  
  
//I'm with G'uran's underground resistance. We're planning to sneak into the   
presidential estates in a few hours' time. He planned to revive his father.  
With the President awake and his loyal Guards with him, G'uran thinks there's  
shouldn't be a problem to overthrow D'maar.//  
  
//It was said that none of Karageon's healers could revive President G'karel  
from his coma.//   
  
//But none of the healers were Jedi,// Obi-Wan pointed out. //D'maar did not  
ask for a Jedi healer at all. G'uran hopes a Jedi could reverse his father's  
coma.//  
  
//And that's where you come in. Sound plan, but risky. At all cost, you must  
awaken the President. For only him could order his loyal Presidential Guard  
help in the revolt.//  
  
//I hope I'm up to it.//  
  
//Obi-Wan,// Qui-Gon chastised gently, //your healing skills are almost on par  
with mine.//   
  
Obi-Wan grinned, ignoring the odd looks the rebels were giving him. Though  
Qui-Gon was not a healer, the art of Jedi healing was one of his Master's  
strong suits and he had taught his apprentice well.   
  
//Anytime you need a distraction, just holler. I have one very handy here in  
the gladiator dungeons.//  
  
//You're in a strange humour today, Master.// Obi-Wan noted.   
  
//Concentrate on the task at hand, Padawan.//  
  
//Yes, Master.//  
  
Obi-Wan broke off the mental communication with his Master and turned all his  
attention back to the mission at hand. He, G'uran and one other rebel were  
hidden outside the walls of the presidential estate.   
  
Night had already fallen three hours ago.  
  
Obi-Wan gestured briefly, turning the guards' attention away from their designated  
entry point. "Go!"  
  
Like shadows in the night, they slipped across the street and silently sneaked  
into the presidential estate grounds.  
  
_____________________________________________________________________________  
  
~ THREE ~  
  
Kai sat by the window, ignoring the other occupants in the room.  
  
Her life had recently became a game of run-and-hide. Out here in the vast galaxy,  
anything could happen. But ending up as a slave wasn't quite what she wanted. It   
reminded her too much of what she was before she ran away.   
  
Kai gently touched her chest. There was a transmitter in her chest, implanted there  
by the Karageonian slave-master. If she tried to leave the planet, she would  
be blown to bits. Not that it matter to her. If she wants to leave, there  
would be no stopping her.  
  
She thought of Set. Though he was completely cloaked to conceal his identity,  
Kai identified him to be a cyborg. His presence worried and frightened her.   
  
She thought of the bet D'maar made with his business associate, with her as  
the prize. She knew of her own worth, and none of it laid in her physical  
appearance. She suspected she knew who his business associate was. It was  
imperative that she escaped.  
  
She thought of the man she recognised in the dungeons. Qui-Gon Jinn who tried  
to save her on Theomoral, though she chose to take the danger with her. He  
believed her dead, but no longer.   
  
All in all, Karageon was becoming a dangerous place for her. Too many familiar  
faces were gathering in this place. It was time for her to leave.   
  
Which brings her back to the question: so why isn't she making a move at all?  
  
Kai glanced at the night sky. It was the colour of deep midnight blue, for  
Karageon has no true night. She thought of Qui-Gon again, with his quiet dignity  
and warrior's grace. His eyes were very much the colour of the Karageonian night.  
  
As for her question, she has this hunch that it all had to do with him.   
  
***  
  
"What's on your mind, Set?" The envoy asked as she joined her assistant on the  
balcony.  
  
Though Set had obeyed her command to join her for the dinner party D'maar was   
hosting now, he had kept away from the dining hall, preferring to stay in the  
background or out on the balcony. Still swathed in his hooded cloak, Set was  
staring out into the night. The envoy read the alertness in his ramrod pose.   
  
"My sensors picked up suspicious movement on the presidential grounds," he  
answered softly. "I believe it's the resistance."  
  
"Hmm." The envoy smoothed the front of her black skirt, part of her armour  
getup. She didn't trust D'maar as anymore than she could throw him. "Let  
D'maar handle it. If the situation get ugly, we bail."  
  
"And Marionette?"  
  
"We take her with us. She's what we're after, not this business deal." The  
envoy glanced at her assistant. "Go keep an eye on her."   
  
"As you wish."  
  
***  
  
Gaining entrance into the President's bedchambers was easy. Especially when  
the Presidential Guards recognised G'uran and allowed his small group entry.  
It was them who guarded the comatose ruler vulnerable to attacks. Even though  
D'maar was in power now, he could do nothing against a contingent of well-  
trained warriors fiercely protecting the rightful ruler of the planet.   
  
"No change in his condition?" G'uran asked.  
  
"None, sir." O'rado, the captain of the President's Guards replied. He bowed  
to the hooded figure of Obi-Wan. "Jedi, I bid you greeting."  
  
"And I to you." Obi-Wan crossed the bedchambers to the President's bed,  
settling himself on the chair beside it. He pushed back his hood and studied  
the peaceful face of the Karageonian deep in a coma. Placing a hand on  
G'karel's forehead, Obi-Wan sent his consciousness into the body of the  
comatose President.  
  
Remembering what his Master taught him about comas, Obi-Wan focused on G'karel's  
brain. Gently, he thrown out small tendrils of the Force, exploring and  
searching for the cause.   
  
There, he found it.   
  
A small alien presence, too small for the sensors to detect. An artificial  
device, very advanced, very skilfully made. Obi-Wan tightened his focus until  
it was a long needle-thin tool and probed the device.   
  
It was absurdly simple, the device, but so tiny disabling it would be delicate  
work.  
  
***  
  
Qui-Gon nearly missed the strange passive presence barely rippling the Force  
before the dark shadow glided to a halt outside his cell. He rose from his cot,  
walking over to the door of his cell.  
  
"What are you doing here?" he whispered.   
  
Kai gestured.  
  
"She says she's escaping," K'avin said quietly, joining him. "She wants you to  
go with her."  
  
Qui-Gon took in the dark rough-spun clothes she wore and the black shawl  
covering her shiny hair. And finally the missing presence of the slave collar  
from her neck. "If you escapes, they will use the transmitter and destroy you."  
  
Kai gestured again.   
  
"The transmitter is not a problem," K'avin translated. "Will you flee with her?"  
  
"I can't leave yet." Qui-Gon replied regretfully. "If you could stay awhile  
longer, I promise we'll be free by tomorrow."  
  
"She can't wait that long," K'avin interpreted her flashing hand gestures.   
  
"Then I wish you a safe journey," Qui-Gon said softly and meant every word of it.   
  
Their gazes locked for a long moment, silently conveying without words the  
emotions they could not put into words. Then Kai was gone, retreating from the  
dungeons as silently as she had came. Qui-Gon remained by the bars of his cell,  
tracking the bare ripples she created in the Force as she departed.   
  
***  
  
"Father!" G'uran rushed over to the bed and gently supported the President as  
he sat up.  
  
On the other side of the bed, Obi-Wan slumped in his chair, head bowed in  
fatigue. Breathing hard, he wiped the sweat from his forehead and liberally  
replenished himself with the Force.   
  
"Son, how long was I out?" G'karel asked.  
  
"A month, Father. You wouldn't have awaken if it wasn't for Padawan Kenobi  
here."  
  
"Thank you," G'karel said.  
  
Obi-Wan solemnly nodded. "It's my place to serve, President G'karel."  
  
"Father, D'maar has made himself Governor-Regent. He is abusing his power of  
office. I need your help - "  
  
"To stop him?" G'karel finished. He swung his legs over the side, getting up  
with his son's help. "I'm looking forward to it. Are my troops ready and in  
position?"  
  
"Yes, Mr. President." O'rado replied with a set of clothes for G'karel. "And  
G'uran's underground resistance is in position to lend their aid as well.  
However, D'maar's forces is still stronger than ours. We need a distraction,  
and we've to move fast."  
  
"Not a problem. There's one handy in the gladiator dungeons," Obi-Wan spoke  
up, finally rising from his chair. "My master is ready to spring it."  
  
"Then by all means, distract D'maar's forces."  
  
Obi-Wan nodded. //Master?//  
  
//Yes, Padawan?//  
  
//President G'karel is awake. We need a distraction.//  
  
//Tell them to wait until D'maar's forces are fully committed.//  
  
//Yes, Master.//   
  
***  
  
"Here," K'avin said, pressing Qui-Gon's lightsaber into his hand.   
  
"Thank you."  
  
With a small gesture, the Jedis' manacles unlocked, freeing them. Another  
shove with the Force, and the door to their cell burst open with a noisy  
clatter.  
  
"That ought to bring the guards down," Qui-Gon muttered.  
  
The commotion had awoken every gladiator in the dungeons. They stared in  
amazement as the Jedi calmly exited their cell. E'mura jumped to her feet.   
  
"Is it time?" she called eagerly.  
  
"Yes, it is." Qui-Gon replied, igniting his lightsaber and dropping into a  
defensive stance. Moments later, the guards ran into the dungeons.   
  
"Blast them!" shouted their leader.  
  
Qui-Gon deftly deflected the laser bolts back to the guards. K'avin hung back,  
the dungeons too small for two Jedi to wield their weapons efficiently.  
Instead, he used the Force to unlock every manacle and cell door in the  
dungeon. The fight was brief. By the time Qui-Gon was done, he left a pile of  
injured guards on the ground.  
  
T'juro stepped from his cell, eyeing the two Jedi with something akin to awe.  
They have dropped their mental images and their real appearances were vastly  
different from their disguises. He glanced at the numerous wounded guards  
unable to get up from the ground and his respect deepened. The Jedi truly lived  
up to their reputation.  
  
In a voice projected by the Force to reach all corners of the dungeons, Qui-Gon  
spoke, "if you wish to gain your freedom, follow us."  
  
"What made you think a couple of us could overwhelm D'maar's forces?" T'juro   
pointed out.  
  
"My underground resistance is attempting to overthrow D'maar tonight," E'mura  
spoke up. "We could use all the help we can get."  
  
T'juro pondered, then finally reached down and picked up a fallen blast-rifle.  
"So what are we waiting for?"  
  
"Put the guards in the cells," K'avin said.  
  
As the gladiators moved to carry out K'avin's orders, Qui-Gon stepped up to  
T'juro. "We need to free all the prisoners."   
  
"This way."  
  
***  
  
Somewhere in the presidential palace, Kai ducked behind a door. A group of  
D'maar's guards was fleeing down the corridor, exchanging fire with the ragtag  
forces of gladiators and rebels chasing them.   
  
There was a revolt going on, the realisation hit her. So that's why he wouldn't  
leave with her. Somehow she didn't think he was the type to stand aside and  
watch D'maar abuse his power.   
  
Retracing her steps, Kai hunted for another way to the presidential hanger.  
She had to leave as quickly as possible. With a revolt going on, she knew the  
cyborg was bound to make his appearance as well and he would choose this time  
to come after her. Coming upon a closed door, she tapped the control panel.   
  
The door slid open and she came face to face with Set. Even before she caught  
a good look of him, she turned tail and ran.  
  
Recovering swiftly, Set promptly followed.  
  
***  
  
The envoy was a warrior at heart. Unlike the nobles in the dining hall, she  
immediately read the tension in the rigid poise of the guard hurrying towards  
D'maar. She watched intently as he whispered something into the ears of the  
Governor-Regent, and noted the sudden paleness of D'maar's face.  
  
Then the Governor-Regent rose and apologising, made his exit from the dining  
hall. No one suspects a thing, except for her. Calmly, the envoy rose from her  
seat and sauntered to the balcony, ignoring the sudden commotion filling the  
dining hall as she conveniently hid herself in the shadows on the balcony.   
  
In the dining hall, the nobles gasped as G'karel strode into the dining hall,  
his son on one side and Obi-Wan on the other. The President was holding a  
blaster and it was aimed straight at D'maar back-pedalling before them. Someone,  
a guard, opened fire. Obi-Wan parried the blaster bolt easily and it scorched  
the floor. A band of rebels and Guards sprinted into the hall, disarmed D'maar's  
guards and took them prisoners.  
  
"President G'karel," stammered D'maar. "T-this is - "   
  
"A shock? I don't doubt it," G'karel growled. "And neither do I like it when  
scum like you try to usurp my rule, D'maar. You're finished. G'uran, will you  
do the honour?"  
  
"With pleasure, Father." G'uran grinned nastily as he stepped forward with  
manacles in hands.  
  
The envoy watched silently as D'maar was put in chains. It was clearly time to  
leave. Stepping quietly away from the open doorway, she pressed a small beacon  
call to summon her slave-rigged ship and proceeded to climb up the wall of the  
palace to the roof.  
  
Inside, Obi-Wan was well aware of the envoy's presence, still and watchful.  
When she finally made a move to escape, Obi-Wan reacted at once. Running over  
to the balcony, he stared up as she scaled the nearly smooth wall at an  
impossibly rapid rate. Shaking his head in amazement, he coiled and sprang up.  
Propelled by the Force, he literally flew up to the rooftop way ahead of the  
envoy. Landing neatly on his feet, he backed away from the edge of the roof.  
  
Very soon, the envoy reached the top. She crouched on the ledge, glaring at  
the Padawan blocking her way, lightsaber in hand. Swiftly discarding her cloak,  
she leapt at him, unsheathing deadly vibro-claws at the same time.   
  
Obi-Wan was barely able to jump out of her way, feeling her claws tore through  
his sleeves. She was a cyborg, he realised. And that was all the time he had  
before she attacked him again.  
  
There was no time to do anything else but to defend himself.  
  
Down in the dining hall, Qui-Gon and K'avin entered the room from the other  
end. They trotted through the dining hall, K'avin towards the President and  
Qui-Gon veering off in the same direction Obi-Wan had left so suddenly. G'uran  
was relieved to see K'avin alive.  
  
"I thought you were dead," he told K'avin.   
  
"What can I say? Jedi are hard to kill," the Jedi Knight replied.   
  
"Where is your companion going?" he asked.   
  
"After his Padawan, no doubt."  
  
* * *  
  
Kai fled up the stairs and burst onto the rooftop, skidding to a stop despite  
herself as she spotted Obi-Wan battling another cyborg. A female, Set's  
companion most likely. Almost instantly she recovered herself, darting away  
from the stairway as Set lunged through the narrow doorway.   
  
Set didn't allow her time to regroup. He attacked her with an inhuman speed,  
forcing her to back-pedal across the roof. Kai ducked his grasp. Her fighting  
instincts rising, she retaliated. She felt her fingers morphing and hardening  
into sharpened claws even as she slashed at Set with knife-sharp digits. There  
was no time to think, just react and stay alive. Twisting and dancing away from  
the cyborg, Kai yanked his cloak from his body, her other hand swinging out   
towards his face in a deadly arc.  
  
Then she froze abruptly, staring at Set wide-eyed.  
  
She knew that face, the exotic features and dark eyes, even better than she  
knew her own. It was the face of her companion who loved her despite her   
inhuman nature sought to protect her. It was the face of her partner who  
sacrificed his life so she could live hers...or so she thought.  
  
"Surprise," Set grinned.  
  
Numb with shock, Kai stood stock-still, unable to tear her gaze away from his  
face.  
  
"He fought long and hard," Set went on relentlessly. "But in the end, we broke  
him. Now there's only me."  
  
His movements a blur, Set lunged at her again.   
  
Kai didn't blink as she felt the vibro-knife sinking into her shoulder. Didn't  
remove her gaze from the familiar face inches away from hers, all twisted with  
cruelty. Set's feral grin widened when he saw the betrayal finally and slowly  
seeping into her eyes. Moving like lightning, he yanked the vibro-knife from  
her shoulder and planted the specially-designed restraining bolt on her chest.  
  
Pain like nothing Kai had ever known jolted through her body, disrupting every  
motor and neural processes she had. Her mouth opened in a soundless scream, Kai  
crumpled to the ground, writhing. The restraining bolt was rapidly draining the  
strength from her body, blanketing her in white-hot pain, binding her mind in  
its restrictive coils.  
  
Blindly, Kai groped for the restraining bolt. Uncaring of what she did to her  
flesh, she tore it away from her chest. A scream left her lips, drowning out  
the sickeningly sound of tearing flesh. The restraining bolt slipped from her  
hand as she slumped back onto the ground, nearly sobbing from the burning pain.  
  
Stepping forward to confront the fallen Kai, Set was thrown back by an  
invisible force. Regaining his feet again, he glared at the human standing  
protectively over the helpless Kai.   
  
"Who are you?" he snarled.  
  
"A friend," Qui-Gon replied coolly. Then he attacked. From past experience, he  
knew the longer a cyborg was kept off balance, the better chance he had of  
winning. And he fully intended to win today.  
  
Across the roof, the two Jedi fought. Obi-Wan against the cyborg envoy and  
Qui-Gon against Set. They were better prepared this time, knowing what weapons  
cyborgs wielded and how to stay out of the weapons' way. It was an edge, but  
not much. For all their Force-augmented speed and strength, they were barely  
a match for the cyborgs.  
  
One hand clutching her chest, face ashen and stained with tears, Kai painfully  
gained to her knees, then to her feet. Her crimson-gold hair came loose from  
its bindings and cascaded freely down her back. She was shaking violently,  
trying hard to find the strength to help Qui-Gon but it was so difficult to  
move. The envoy's ship was approaching closer and closer to the presidential  
building but she paid it no mind. Gathering her strength, she watched and waited  
for an opening.  
  
Qui-Gon faked a left and a dodge. Dropping below Set's guard, he reversed his  
grip on his lightsaber and stabbed it through Set's midsection. The cyborg  
jerked, a spasm of pain.   
  
Pouncing onto Set's back, Kai buried her fingers up to her hands into his  
cranium. Brutally smashing through his neural defences, she rooted deep into  
his head and unleashed a memory download. Set stiffened, eyes wide in surprise  
and rage, helpless against the flow of memories into his head.  
  
Qui-Gon quickly withdrew his lightsaber and backed away, not sure what was  
going on, but ready to push the advantage. He stole a glance over at his  
apprentice, then at K'avin who had ran up to the roof. Taking in the situation,  
the Jedi Knight raced to Obi-Wan's aid.  
  
Obi-Wan felt the approach of K'avin. Dodging to the side, he deliberately lured  
the envoy's attention away from K'avin, forcing her to leave her back open. As  
Obi-Wan guessed, K'avin chose this moment to strike. The envoy staggered as  
K'avin's lightsaber bit deep into her back. Whirling around, her arm connected  
soundly with the Knight's jaws, sending the Knight sprawling across the cold  
roof. Obi-Wan leaped in, lightsaber aiming straight for her unprotected flank.   
  
Moving like quicksilver, the envoy batted away his lightsaber and leapt, flipping  
over Obi-Wan's head. Landing on her feet, she turned and jumped again, swinging  
herself onto the extended ramp of her hovering ship in a single fluid motion.   
  
She paused, turning to look back. "Set!"  
  
With a roar, Set tossed Kai from his back, like a tauntaun would with an  
unwanted rider. She went tumbling to the roof. Too exhausted and pain-ridden  
to move, Kai laid as she fell, unmoving. The cyborg clutched his head in his  
hands, wavering on his feet. Whirling around suddenly, he stared at Kai as  
though through new eyes.  
  
"No," he whispered, sounding more human than it was possible. "What have I  
done?"  
  
"SET!" The envoy cried out again.   
  
The anguish faded from Set's eyes. He bared his teeth in a defiant scream.  
He knew when he was beaten and when to retreat. Now was the time to do both.  
Racing past the Jedi, he effortlessly sprang for their ship hovering next to  
the presidential palace.  
  
The cyborgs retreated up the ramp even as the ship took off for deep space.  
  
Qui-Gon shut down his lightsaber, knowing the battle was over, and went over  
to Kai. She was so still and unmoving. He gently took her into his arms,   
examining her for injuries with an expert eye.  
  
"Is she all right?" Obi-Wan asked anxiously as he approached, supporting a  
groggy K'avin.   
  
"She's unconscious." Pushing away the long tresses, Qui-Gon suddenly drew  
back, startled, when he saw the charred gaping hole in the middle of her  
chest and the knife wound in her shoulder.   
  
Above him, Obi-Wan gasped. "No blood! And the wounds! They're healing  
on their own. What is she, Master?"   
  
"Your guess is as good as mine, Padawan." Qui-Gon carefully gathered Kai into   
his arms. She was almost weightless as he cradled her against his chest, a   
fragile being hurting deeply. "But I do know she needs a safe place to rest   
and heal, just like anyone of us."   
  
_____________________________________________________________________________  
  
~ EPILOGUE ~  
  
It took Qui-Gon some time, but finally he found Kai in a secluded glen tucked  
away in the garden of the presidential estate. He stood back in the shadows  
for some time, studying the slender enigma sitting by the pond. She wore a  
sleeping gown, the light colour visible in the night. Her hair, free and brushed,  
clung to her back like a crimson-gold blanket. From his angle, Kai looked  
painfully ethereal, otherworldly in her fragile beauty. But Qui-Gon knew better;  
there was a core of iron strength inside her.  
  
Four days ago, he had brought Kai to the presidential medical facility. She  
was unconscious and wounded, but healing on her own...   
  
***  
  
"She is healing well enough on her own. All I can do is give her a  
steady supply of nutrients to replenish that she is using in her  
self-healing."  
  
The medic droid glanced at his sleeping patient, then back to the Jedi  
Master. If a droid could convey puzzlement, this one would.  
  
"What else?" Qui-Gon prompted.  
  
"I am not entirely sure if she is...entirely human or even organic.  
The scan I did gave me some interesting results. Kai is not fully  
organic. Neither is she fully artificial."  
  
"So she is a cyborg then?"   
  
"No, not in that sense. I believe she is an amalgam of both organic  
and artificial. There is no distinctly organic nor distinctly artificial  
components in her. Her very flesh is composed of both."  
  
Qui-Gon went over to the med-bed, staring thoughtfully at the sleeping  
Kai. So vulnerable and human in her sleep, yet he remembered the  
deadliness and inhuman traits she displayed in battle.   
  
"When will she wake up?"  
  
"I estimate, in the next three days."  
  
***  
  
That had been four days ago. When she finally woke from her healing sleep, Kai  
kept pretty much to herself. Qui-Gon sensed her growing need to leave Karageon,  
but the President had bade her to stay. After all, he mistakenly believed, Kai  
had helped in overthrowing D'maar.   
  
Qui-Gon stepped forward, deliberately rustling the leaves of the bushes to  
announce his arrival. Kai looked up, tensing minutely but relaxing as she saw  
who it was.  
  
"May I?" he asked mildly.  
  
Kai turned her gaze back to the pond.  
  
Taking that as her consent, Qui-Gon lowered himself to the grassy ground next  
to her. He noted the thinness of her gown that was no protection against the  
Karageonian cold. Yet she was not shivering.   
  
"Here." Kai glanced down at the write-padd he put in her lap, and back at him   
questioningly. "I do not know the Universal sign language. You'll going have  
to communicate with me in writing."  
  
-Very well,- she wrote in hesitating strokes on the write-padd.  
  
"How did you survive the fall on Theomoral?" Qui-Gon asked.  
  
-I did not. My redundancies kicked in and I lived again.- Kai hesitated, then  
wrote, -I am not human.-  
  
"Neither are you a cyborg. So what are you?"   
  
-I'd rather not say.-  
  
Qui-Gon decided to change track. "How did you end up on Karageon?"   
  
-I stole a ship and left Theomoral. Pirates attacked my ship, they captured me  
and sold me to D'maar as a slave.-  
  
"Why are the cyborgs after you?"  
  
-Because their master wants me back.-  
  
"Why?"  
  
-It's complicated.-  
  
Another evasion. Qui-Gon sighed inwardly and tried again. "How long have you  
been on the run?"  
  
-Far too long.-   
  
"You wish to leave Karageon soon?" It was a statement.  
  
Kai hesitated, then nodded.  
  
"You fear they would return for you." She remained silent. "You can't run  
forever, Kai."  
  
Kai looked away, but Qui-Gon gently grasped her chin and firmly turned her  
gaze back to his.   
  
"The Jedi Council have summoned my apprentice and I back to Coruscant. We're   
leaving tomorrow morning. Come with us. I would like to help you in any way I  
can."  
  
She gazed at him steadily, green eyes guileless and open. No longer cold, no  
longer remote, but filled with calm acceptance, as though she had made a very   
important decision and accepted the consequences.  
  
"You can't," she whispered.  
  
Qui-Gon blinked, startled to hear her speak. She reached out and placed her  
fingers lightly on his cheek.  
  
"This is my fight," she continued in her low melodious voice.  
  
"Kai..."  
  
Kai leaned forward and breathed into his ear, "Gail. My name is Gail."   
  
Dark blue eyes met luminous green, neither needing words to say what they felt  
for each other. Then with a faint rustle of silk, she left the glen and the  
Jedi Master, walking away into the darkness.   
  
***  
  
"She's gone," K'avin spoke without preamble as he walked Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan  
to their cruiser.  
  
"Firegold?" Obi-Wan questioned.  
  
"Kai, Firegold, whatever her name is. She upped and left. Security reported a  
ship missing from northern Serat spaceport." K'avin eyed Qui-Gon who did not  
react with surprise. "You knew she would pull a stunt like this, didn't you,  
Qui-Gon?"  
  
"I was expecting it," Qui-Gon said serenely.  
  
"So why didn't you persuade her to stay then?"  
  
Qui-Gon's smile was enigmatic and a trifle sad. "Not all paths are meant to  
be walked together."   
  
With that the Jedi Master strode up the ramp to the cruiser. His apprentice  
and the Jedi Knight stared after his retreating back. Then K'avin shook his  
head and sighed. "Still the same infuriatingly mysterious Jedi."  
  
"That's my Master," Obi-Wan shrugged.   
  
They exchanged a smile, the former apprentice and the Padawan, knowing from   
experience how much Qui-Gon's quirks tend to drive those around him up the  
wall.  
  
K'avin clapped a hand on Obi-Wan's shoulder. "Treasure your moments with him,  
Obi-Wan. I sense you'll not be a Padawan for much long."  
  
***  
  
"Master?" Obi-Wan hovered at the entrance of Qui-Gon's bedchamber. "The shuttle  
has arrived to take us to the Republic cruiser."  
  
They had arrived back on Coruscant yesterday and reported the events on  
Karageon to the Jedi Council. There were some actions the Council did not  
approve of, but in the end, they accepted Qui-Gon's judgement. In return, they  
informed the Jedi Master of Valorum's decision to appoint him as his ambassador  
to Naboo. Apparently, the Chancellor wished for a speedy resolution to the  
Trade Federation's blockade.  
  
Once again, both Master and apprentice found themselves with only a day's rest  
before their next mission.  
  
Obi-Wan waited patiently as Qui-Gon roused himself from his meditation. Qui-Gon  
gracefully unfolded his tall frame from the meditation mat, put on his Jedi robe  
and turned to leave. Their bags were already sent ahead of them to the Republic  
cruiser.  
  
Side by side, they walked through the quiet corridors of the Jedi Temple.  
Obi-Wan spotted a redhead Jedi from the corner of his eyes. It was no one he  
recognised but the colour of her hair reminded him of someone else.  
  
"I wonder where she is now?" he mused aloud.  
  
Qui-Gon glanced down at his apprentice. He had long ago decided to keep her  
true name to himself, sensing that it was a gift she did not easily bestow on  
anyone. "Kai?"  
  
"Kai, Firegold, whatever her name is." Obi-Wan repeated what K'avin said to  
them days ago. "She's an intriguing enigma."  
  
"That she is."  
  
"Do you think of her often, Master?" Obi-Wan asked suddenly.  
  
Qui-Gon smiled serenely. "Focus, Padawan. This is a crucial mission entrusted  
to us."  
  
"Yes, Master." Obi-Wan replied dutifully, knowing full well Qui-Gon had evaded   
answering his question.   
  
"We're Jedi first, humans last."  
  
Later that night on board the Republic cruiser, it occurred to Obi-Wan that  
maybe Qui-Gon did give him an answer of a sort.  
  
_____________________________________________________________________________  
  
~ THE END ~ 


End file.
